


No Light

by LydiaBelle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBelle/pseuds/LydiaBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Morgause's death much sooner than anticipated Morgana is left alone without a plan, and a secret that leaves her reeling. Alone and confused she is hunted by Arthur and the knights, to be brought forth to the king before his untimely demise. Redemption? Or was she ever guilty in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pretty lies ugly truth

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

"You're going to be alright, I'll take care of you." Morgana stroked her sister's long golden hair, smoothing it away from her face.

"Don't be silly. I'm dying." Morgause gazed up at her with a melancholy smile, her voice soft.

Morgana shook her head with conviction. "No. You're not. I won't let you."

"You don't have a choice." She squeezed her hand weakly, "We will be together again. Just remember, when I'm gone, I did what I thought was best for you."

Morgana frowned, "What are you talking about?"

She didn't answer, turning her head and relaxing back onto the bed. Morgana stood, pulling the coarse blanket up around her shoulders.

She knew Morgause was right, the damage was done. In less than a day she would be dead, and she'd be alone once again. For now she would keep her comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be in the tiny home she'd acquired. A hovel really, built into the side of a rock wall completely hidden from view. Morgause had constructed it and shown it to her a few times before, though it had been much tidier.

When she'd escaped in a whirlwind of smoke and magic from the throne room of Camelot Morgana had brought them to the only place she could think of where they'd be safe. From there she'd gotten her onto the small cot in the corner and ransacked every shelf and every cupboard searching for a way to heal her mortally wounded sister. But her efforts were fruitless, and now she was here, watching her sister slowly die.

Morgana ran her hands over her face, pushing back the tears. There would be no crying, she had done enough of that in her life.

With a sigh she tied her long black waves back with a leather string, her hands shaking. "Stop." She commanded herself, angrily grabbing her black cloak from the chair by the dim fire. She swung it around her shoulders and secured it over the red dress she still wore, lifting a small basket from the table.

With one last glance at her sister she walked from the hovel, quietly shutting the door behind her.

\--

Arthur's first day on the throne had grown increasingly awkward and stressful as it went on, and Merlin's irritating shuffling and mumbles were just making it worse.

"Merlin." He smacked his hand on the armrest and his friend startled.

"Yes, your grace?"

"What exactly is wrong with you?"

Merlin's eyes darted about and he shrugged, wringing his wrists. "Nothing your grace."

Arthur stared him down, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I'm just, worried."

"About?"

"Morgana. What if she comes back?"

He looked away, drumming his fingers against the polished wood. "Why would she? There is nothing here for her any longer. Morgause is most likely dead, she has turned on everyone in Camelot, and father would have her executed should she return."

"Don't you mean you?"

"What?"

"You are King Regent. Should she return, you will be responsible for her fate."

Arthur sat back, eyes glazed. He knew Merlin was right; he was the ruler of his people now, of Camelot. At least until his father was well again,  _if_ he was ever well again.

"What am I meant to do?" he murmured.

"Arthur?"

"She's, Morgana. I've known her practically my whole life, how could she do this to me? To us? I've always known she resented father for the things he's done, but he is my -" he broke off, rubbing irritably at his jaw. "Our father. How could she side against us, with Morgause?"

Merlin's mind was racing, his pulse pounding. The guilt was gnawing at his insides, tearing at his heart and screaming at him to tell Arthur the truth. That everything was his fault, that he was the only one responsible for Morgana's betrayal. He had poisoned her, he had kept his magic a secret from her, and he had allowed her to believe Morgause was the only person she had to turn to.

"Arthur I -"

"My king." The heavy wooden doors to the throne room swung open and Arthur sat up, clearing his throat.

"Sir Leon." He greeted the cloaked knight as he respectfully kneeled before him. "Rise."

"Your grace, King Uther is asking for you."

Arthur stood. "He's awake?"

"Yes your grace."

Without a word he rushed from the throne room, Merlin close at his heels. Guards were strewn about the hall, bowing at the waist to him as he passed by. His father's door was open and the glow of the torches on the wall flickered about, casting shadows.

Gaius stood at his father's side, gently feeling his forehead. Uther knocked his hand away weakly as his son entered his chambers, smiling as best he could.

"Arthur."

"Father." He took a seat by his bed, grasping his fingers with his own. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, my son. But am I sad to say my days are numbered, and I require something of you."

"Anything father."

"Find Morgana. Bring her to me."

Arthur leaned back in surprise; he hadn't expected such a request.

"Father-"

"I know what you believe of your sister, Arthur. But I am to die, and soon. All I want now is to explain things to her, to show her why I have done what I have done."

He shook his head, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say.

"You don't owe her an explanation. She betrayed you," he started, shaking his head with uncertainty and anger. "why would you want her here again? All she has done is hurt us and our people, she has no right-"

"She is my daughter and your sister!" a bit of the old king peeked through as he struggled to sit up, his tone firm. "You will do as I say, and bring her to me."

Arthur stood and nodded curtly, "Yes father." Merlin watched on with concern as he rushed from the room, his shoulders stiff.

Uther collapsed back against his pillows, exhausted from his show of strength. Gaius returned to his side. "I don't understand," he mumbled. "Why, why must I do this to those I love?"

"It's in our nature sire. People make mistakes." Gaius soothed.

"I am king. Am I not supposed to be better than this?"

He shook his head, turning to the table where he had prepared a sleeping draught to help him rest. "You've only acted in the best interests of your children sire. You are a good father, and a good king." He helped him to swallow the contents of the clear vial, helping him to settle back into the bed.

\--

Merlin accompanied his mentor as they walked from the king's chambers to theirs, silent. "You seem quiet." Gaius mused as he shut the door behind them, placing the empty vial into a wash basin.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." He shook his head at his young charge, sitting with a groan at the small table.

"Merlin, what is it?"

He sighed, taking a seat across from him. "The guilt Gaius, it's eating me alive. I did this! All of it, I poisoned Morgana and I made her the way she is. I'm the reason she turned against Camelot, against Arthur," he paused, rubbing his head angrily. "against me."

Gaius frowned and reached across the table, touching his hand gently. "Merlin, Morgana was on a path of darkness from the moment she was born. I could sense it in her. Uther's hatred for magic only helped to strengthen it; there was nothing you could have done."

"I don't believe that." He objected, pulling away abruptly. "If I had shown her my magic, it wouldn't have been so easy for her to choose Morgause."

"You could not risk exposing yourself! What if she had gone to Uther?"

"She despised what he was doing to the people with magic, to the druids; she never would have betrayed me. I should have had more faith in her as she did me. I could have saved her." Gaius was somber as Merlin closed his eyes, leaning his head into his hands.

"Guilt can be powerful Merlin. It can break us, and if you think there is something you can do to make your peace with it than I advise you to."

"What are you talking about?"

"When Morgana is brought back-"

"And you believe she will be?" Gaius shrugged, smiling softly.

"I have much faith in our King regent; he has never failed before."

Merlin sighed, "I know."

"If you think it would ease your mind, perhaps you should see if there is anything redeemable in Morgana. I myself have doubts, but you seem determined and I'm afraid if I don't say anything to help you along you'll do it on your own in a much more destructive way."

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "When have I ever disobeyed?"

Gaius raised a thick eyebrow and stood from his chair, making his way to his cot.

"Whatever you decide, I will stand by you. Now get some rest."

\--

Morgana's cloak caught in a thorn bush and she huffed, tugging at the thick material. The basket in her hands had grown heavy with the flowers and foods she'd collected and she set it down beside her.

Her hovel was only a few paces away and she was eager to get back to her sister, to be there for her in her last hours. She hadn't intended on being out as long as she was, and it had grown dark.

Having successfully pulled her cloak from the thorns she noted with a sigh that she'd have to repair the tear in the hem at some point, and continued on into the hovel. The door pushed in silently and she set the basket on the table. Her eyes glowed dimly as she set the candles to light, moving towards her sister's side.

Morgause's breaths were shallow, her forehead crinkled with pain as she let out a low whimper.

"Sister." Morgana whispered. She lifted a cloth from the bucket by the bed, wringing it out before touching it to her cheeks in an effort to cool her blazing skin. Her eyes flickered and opened, her dark brown gaze catching onto her.

"Morgana."

She shook her head, touching a finger to her lips. "Don't speak; I see how it pains you so."

Morgause lifted a hand, weakly pushing her away. "I must." Morgana nodded and continued to dab the cloth to her flesh, listening closely.

"When I was a little girl, our mother told me of you." She recoiled in surprise, she had never known much of her mother, and had truly never had the urge to. "She said, when you were born, you howled like a wild dog, and she knew you would be trouble."

Morgause laughed a little, though it quickly turned to a wet cough. Tears stung at the back of her eyes and Morgana smiled, stroking her cheek.

"When Ygraine died, Uther went into a mad rage of grief and anguish. He killed everything in sight, and he knew mother had magic. She fled with me, to the Isle of the Blessed. Gaius helped us there. We had no choice but to leave you behind. I was only three, and you were one."

She shook her head, "I don't understand."

"She watched sometimes, in the reflection of the water. She'd conjure your images, and see how you fared. It pained her so that she couldn't be with you, though she planned to reunite with you again. But when father died, she did as well. The pain in her heart was too much, and she succumbed to it. She told me her tryst with Uther had meant nothing, that she had been lonely. And I will never be gladder for it, because it means I have you beside me."

Morgana nodded, finally succumbing to her emotions as her tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I love you sister, I'm sorry I am not strong enough to save you."

"We all die someday. Today is my day, to go on to Avalon. Where I shall greet our mother and father, and live on until I am to see you again." She gave a genuine smile. "Please don't be angry with me. I thought I was doing what was best."

She frowned, confused yet again. "You said that before. What is it you're not telling me?"

"I don't want you to spend our last moments together hating me. You'll know everything soon enough." She closed her eyes, drifting off into an uneasy sleep, leaving her with more questions than ever before.

Morgana stood and wiped at her eyes, placing the cloth back into the bucket. As she tidied up and uncoiled the leather string from her hair – using it instead to bunch together wild flowers she'd collected – she thought on her words. Why could she have possibly done that would be so horrible it would cause her to spoil the dwindling time they had left.

Shaking her head she lifted a heavy pot onto the dying fire, poking at it until it stirred and revived. She poured water from a bucket into it, adding in the vegetables she'd stolen and allowing it to sit until it bubbled and boiled into a thick broth. Satisfied she moved the pot away and poured herself a small bowl, sipping from it delicately. Her lifestyle had raised her with refined manners, and she was no more used to using her hands than she was to cleaning a home, but in only a few days of her self-adhered banishing she'd found herself doing both.

Arthur came to the forefront of her mind suddenly, and she remembered when he'd turned his nose up at the meal Merlin's mother had offered them. She almost laughed at the thought of him trying to take care of himself as she was, but in a wave of anger she was confronted with the image of him standing by as Uther gripped her throat.

Morgana shook her head and found with dismay that she'd dropped her bowl, and the broth had spilled out across the stone floor. Huffing she stooped down to clean her mess, when she heard Morgause inhale sharply.

Stumbling over to her bedside, the broth forgotten, she grasped her hands.

"It's time." She whispered raggedly.

"No." Morgana cried, "I thought I was ready, but I'm not. I can't lose you; you're all that I have."

"No. You are never alone. Know that. I will be with you..."

Her sister's chest heaved once, and her eyes closed, her body still.

"No." she whimpered, her forehead resting against hers. "Don't leave me."

_You are never alone_

Suddenly it was as if a light had gone out, and everything was dark.

_"Morgana?"_

_"I hope you can forgive me."_

_"Teine diaga."_

_"She won't remember any of this."_

_"Mandrake root can be cruel."_

_"I'm here."_

_"You are never alone."_


	2. born to die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana faces painful revelations

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

_Morgause had her arm looped around Morgana's waist, helping to guide her through the low doorway._

_"How could he do this to me?" She whimpered, her hand pressed painfully to her stomach. The poison she'd ingested had been treated with an antidote, but it still left her feeling weak and sick._

_"Men are cruel; they act only in their best interest."_

_"He was my friend. I trusted him." She helped her to sit on a small cot, frowning down at her with a pitying smile._

_"That is a mistake you surely won't make again. Now, get some rest. I'll_  
 _be back soon with some supper." Morgause smoothed a hand over her hair and helped her to lie down, leaving her with a kiss to the forehead._

_Morgana pulled the blanket over her shoulder and tried to relax. The chambers she'd been left in were dark, and it felt as though she was closed off from the rest of the world. The only light offered to her was a torch on the far wall, though it was slowly burning out. She gazed around the room while she still could; there wasn't much of anything in it besides the cot she was resting upon._

_A light tapping distracted her and she swung about, her eyes narrowed. Something cold and wet dripped onto her hand and she smeared it with a finger, staring at it in the increasingly dimming light. It was dark and thick, blood?_

_She looked up, and gasped sharply. There were roots, dripping with the substance that covered her hand, littering the ceiling._

_"What is this?" she stood up from the cot, nearly slipping in a puddle of the tar. "Morgause!' she cried, stumbling toward the door. Her fingers wrapped around the handle to the door and she pushed, finding with panic that it stuck. She shoved at it weakly. "Let me out!"_

_She screamed and howled and called out for what seemed like hours. Her sister didn't so much as acknowledge her. She growled, slamming her fist against the wood. It was then she turned back to face the room, inching along the wall with her hands outstretched, feeling for any cracks or hidden doorways. Slowly, she made her way around; once, twice, with nothing to show for it. It was solid, no cracks, no fissures, no way out._

_Her heart pounding, she sunk to the floor beside the door, drawing her knees to her chest. The torch fizzed and popped before abruptly dying out, leaving her in the middle of the blackness._

_Alone._

\--

_"You are nothing. You are worth nothing." Uther's voice sounded like snakes hissing in her ear. "You are a disgusting creature of magic, a disgrace. My own ward, a witch. I will see you burnt at the stake!" he ran at her, like a charging bull._

_She screamed out, falling to the floor, her hands over her ears._

_"Morgana." She whirled around, the tattered skirts of her gown brushing over her ankles._

_"Arthur?"_

_He kneeled before her, smiling, his face illuminated by a light she could not see. "Come, follow me. I have a way out." he stood, running off to fast for her to follow._

_"Arthur wait!" she got to her feet."Arthur!"_

_"You're always yelling. It's one of the things I hate about you." he murmured. His voice echoed around her, like he was in all places at once._

_"No. Don't say that." she whispered._

_"Why not? It's true. Why would you ever think I cared for you? I've never said so. Even when we were children I think I made it quite clear how I detested you. What makes you think anything's changed in all the years we've known one another?"_

_She stayed quiet, arms crossed over her chest. He laughed then, long and loud and just as cheerful as she remembered. "Oh Morgana. Nothing between us was real. It was all an act, a facade, pretend. You are nothing but filth, you aren't worthy of love."_

_"Please stop!" she begged. "Just leave me alone."_

_"You deserve torment." For one blissful moment it was quiet, and when she turned Arthur was gone. "Arthur?"_

_"No my lady. It's only me." Gwen smiled at her from where she stood by the door. In her hands she held a tied bouquet of flowers._

_"Gwen." she sighed._

_"Remember how I always brought you flowers, my lady?" she stepped forward. "You always took them for granted, didn't you?"_

_"No, never. Gwen you'll never understand how much that meant to me."_

_"Then why didn't you try harder to save my father?" It was as if she'd been slapped. "He was executed for witchcraft. You're a witch. You could've done something. You could have saved him, protected him, but you hid like a coward and let him die!"_

_"No Gwen! I- I didn't even know then. I swear."_

_"Liar!" Gwen threw the flowers to the floor. "You're a liar. And you will pay!"_

_"Please Gwen! Wait!" But her friend was gone, having dissipated in the blink of an eye. "Please."_

_"You'll never know how glad I am that I poisoned you." A tear rolled down her cheek, though her eyes hardened. "I thought you were my friend. How could you do that to me?"_

_"How could I not? You were a threat to everyone, to everything. A monster. A witch. You deserved it. You deserve everything you're going to get. You deserved death; I'm only dissapointed I couldn't give it to you sooner."_

\--

_"Teine diaga. It will erase all doubts in her mind." Morgause's voice was soft as she peered through the iron bars, gazing at the bent form of her sister._

_Morgana had left her cot and was crumpled against the wall, lying beneath the burnt out torch. The mandrake root had taken effect quickly; she'd heard her pleading screams the moment it had started. It broke her heart to hear her tortured so, but she knew it was necessary._

_"And she will never stray?"_

_"Never."_

_Cenred tilted his head, confused. "But she knows this is your doing, she will not turn on you with this knowledge?"_

_"No. Once she is taken from this room and I seal our bond she won't remember a moment of this. It will seems as if it was all a dream, but the terrors she experiences will stay with her. Whenever she tries to think of anything good of those in Camelot she will be confronted with the horrors she's seen. Mandrake root can be cruel." He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her assurances._

_"Very well then. I will be dining if you care to join me." He left swiftly up the stairs, leaving Morgause to stare worriedly into the dark room. She could hear her sister mumbling to herself, begging the hallucinations to cease their harassment._

_"I hope you can forgive me."_

\--

_It had been so long since she had spoken to or seen anyone who hadn't taunted her, called her names, or tortured her with their sharp words and cruel games. She'd been alone longer than she cared to remember, only receiving food and drink through a slot at the bottom of the door._

_Her head was aching, and she craved the touch of a kind soul more than anything. The room had grown increasingly colder, and all she had for warmth was a scraggly blanket made of rough material that chafed at her skin and left it raw. She craved her chambers back in Camelot, with her soft sheets and comfortable bed._

_But she knew now, there was no one who cared for her there any longer. They were all liars, pretenders who wanted nothing more than to see her dead or suffering. She would never again be taken in by their fine words or kind mannerisms. It was nothing more than a play they put on for their own amusement._

_The sound of the door creaking open startled her and Morgana shivered, pressing herself further into the wall._

_"Morgana?"_

_She looked up at the sound of her sister's soft, worried voice. Her head rising from her hands. "Morgause?"_

_"I'm here." she crouched in front of her, smiling kindly. "It's alright now."_

_"No, you don't understand, they won't stop yelling! Screaming at me, calling me horrible things, taunting me with their lies and hurtful words! I can't stand it any longer, I just want to be away from here."_

_Her sister soothed her with a hand to her hair, pulling her close, into her warm embrace. "Don't worry, I'm here for you. It's over now, you're going to be fine."_

_"I don't want to be alone anymore." She whimpered into her shoulder, hot tears blazing down her skin._

_Morgause cooed to her quietly, helping her to her feet. "You are never alone."_

\--

Arthur and Merlin rode side by side, his barrage of knights riding a small distance behind as they carefully scouted the area. Merlin watched his friend with a worried gaze, taking in Arthur's locked jaw and stiff posture.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No."

"You are sure?" "

Yes I'm sure, that's why I said no."

"Sometimes you don't say what you really mean."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"And what did you say?"

"You know what I said."

"Enough. What do you mean by saying I don't always say what I mean?"

Merlin laughed, "Now _I_ don't know what you mean."

Arthur pulled his stallion to a jerking halt and turned to block his path. Merlin's horse squealed as it bumped into Arthur's, backing away nervously as Merlin kept laughing. "I just mean to say, that sometimes you don't like to express your true feelings."

"That's absurd, I express myself!" Arthur objected, moving back to a slow walk. Merlin rolled his eyes. "Fine, I admit sometimes I find it a bit difficult. It's just, father has me confused. Morgana betrayed all of us, she has magic, she sided with Morgause, and for God's sake she usurped the throne!"

"All good points."

"How could he ask me to bring her back? His intentions don't seem to be to lock her up, he says he just wants to talk to her. She ordered guards to fire into a crowd of innocent citizens. The fact that he seems to want to reason with her is beyond me." Arthur went quiet for a moment, the sounds of the forest moving around them filling up the silence.

"Perhaps he believes she is redeemable." Merlin murmured, keeping his sight trained solely between his horse's two velvety black ears to avoid seeing Arthur's reaction.

"Do you believe that?"

He shrugged, "I haven't known her as long as you have."

"She saw you as a friend, or at least she did. I just, I don't understand anything about this. How could she have turned on us? She's always been kind, and just. What could have happened to make her so eager to betray us? I understand her anger with father, but to go so far? I would never have thought her capable."

Merlin was silent, the pounding hooves of the knight's mounts growing closer.

"Your grace, I believe we may have found a trail." Sir Leon approached, stabbing a thumb in the direction they had come. Arthur nodded and the two wheeled their horses about, urging them into a swift gait after him.

\--

As she woke, all Morgana could comprehend was the pounding pain her head. Her eyes flickered and opened, taking in the sight of the stone floor she was lying on. A hand rose to her temple and she rubbed gently, wincing at the contact.

Gingerly she stood up, only to be confronted by the sight of her sister's cold body. Motionless and still on the cot her eyes were closed, her hair stiff and grey in the dank light coming through the window.

Morgana sobbed once, a hand to her mouth. All the things she'd done, everything her sister had led her to do, flashed through her mind. She'd killed innocent, those people in the crowd, people she'd always spoken for in their defense.

"How could you?" she whispered. She couldn't bring herself to care that she was speaking to a corpse. "How could you do this to me?"

She stumbled away, her stomach twisting angrily. Her hands found the table and she pushed it away, the plants she'd put in the case flying towards the floor as the table tipped over. The glass shattered and she fell forward onto her hands and knees, embedding it into her skin. She didn't bother to cry out at the pain of it; she was numb to everything but the cold sting of betrayal. Her sister had used her, wielded her like she would a sword.

_I did what I thought was best for you_

How could this have been for the best? Leaving her alone to deal with the repercussions for what she'd done while unknowingly under the dark influence of her own sister. None of her actions had been her own, yet she could never return to Camelot.

She didn't bother to clean the blood from her hands as she stood, wiping angrily at her tears. Red smeared across her face and she walked out into the cold, her breathing ragged. She walked until the hovel was out of her sight and she stood in an empty clearing, just past a line of trees.

She held her hands out in front of her, her eyes glowing gold. Grass and dirt moved and lifted by her magic, crawling away as if it had a life force of it's own, forming a hole deep enough in the ground that it could be used as a grave.

\--

"You think it's her?" Merlin asked, his fingers clenched around the reins so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Arthur was crouched on the ground, gazing down at the few footprints left in the damp earth. He stood, shrugging.

"Could be. It's worth a shot." He swung back into his saddle.

"Are you alright?" Arthur glanced at him, an irritated expression marring his face. "I mean, how are you going to deal with seeing her again?"

Arthur sighed. "I'm just going to, I suppose. I'll try and say as little to her as possible."

"Good tactic."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Arthur rolled his eyes as they broke into a trot. A small clearing was up ahead and they slowed, confusion paramount. "What's that?" A knight spoke up.

"A grave." Arthur answered. The weight of the stares his knights bestowed upon him was staggering.

"Morgause must be dead." Merlin offered.

"Then we will wait."

"Your grace?"

"The grave is not yet filled. More than likely she will return soon to bury her. Then, we will confront her." Arthur dismounted and walked his horse towards the cover of the trees, Merlin but a few small steps behind.

"Arthur, are you sure-"

"I don't see any other option, do you?" he turned to him, eyebrow raised. Merlin shook his head. "I will not let this opportunity pass by."

He nodded as they tied their horses, moving to the bushes to lie in wait. "Arthur-"

"Quiet. I hear something."

The clearing grew eerily still as Morgana came into view. She pulled Morgause's body -wrapped in blankets and tied with bundles of cloth- along behind her. More startling than her actions was her appearance, her face streaked with blood.


	3. final journey to the earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother and sister speak if only briefly

**_Third Person's Point of View_ **

Morgause's corpse dropped with a sickening thud into the freshly dug grave, her sister standing morosely above. Her clear blue-green eyes were dry, and her slender hands were clenched into fists, blood dripping from the tips of her fingers.

Arthur watched in silence as she dropped to the ground, gingerly folding in on herself. Her red velvet dressed pooled around her and she began to laugh; a laugh that spoke of the sadness and anger that consumed her heart. The knights shifted awkwardly from their crouched positions in the bushes, curious and anxious as to why their king hadn't given the signal.

"I was so foolish, to believe that anyone could ever truly love me."

Her voice broke the silence and Arthur's breath caught in his throat, surprised at the vulnerability in her voice.

"How could anyone love a monster? I was so foolish to believe I was ever safe, ever cared for, my own father…" she grimaced at her words, still unwilling to even consider the king as the man who'd given her life. Gorlois was her father, forever and always. His memory of only short six years counted for more than Uther had as a father-figure for most of her life. All those years he had treated her as his ward, nothing more than a guest of Camelot, when she should have been treated as a daughter, and a Princess.

Perhaps he had seen the dark in her before anyone else. Perhaps he had known what a monumental disappointment she would become. Perhaps he had simply done what was best for his kingdom and protected them from her before she'd even been considered a threat. "He couldn't even admit I was his mistake. I thought, I thought I could trust you. You were my sister, how could I not?" The forest around them was quiet, void of any and all creatures. She was alone, so very alone, as she always had been.

Her hands and knees stung horribly but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, numbing herself as best she could. She focused on the rough blankets her sister's body was wrapped in, her thoughts having become a collective storm in her head, consuming her.

"You asked that I forgive you, but I don't think I can. I've spent my life here defending the people of Camelot from Uther, trying to protect them and you had me kill them. I would have been a good queen but you ruined that for me, with your lies and your manipulation." Her breathing had grown rough, and she pressed a hand to her chest, as though in pain. "I remember what you said to me, when you freed me from the cellar under Cenred's castle. You said that I am never alone. But I am, and what's worse is that it's because of you. You led me to believe I had no one but you at my side, when it wasn't true. I had Arthur and Gwen and the people of Camelot, and now, because of you... I truly do have no one."

She stood, gathering her skirts in her hand as she stumbled sideways. Her eyes turned gold. Through the haze of black spots dancing before her eyes she watched as the dirt spilled over her sister's body, ridding her of the burden that had become Morgause. "Goodbye sister."

As her magic dimmed and her eyes returned to their normal shade Arthur stood and walked slowly into her line of vision. The edges of his body were blurred and she smiled, forcing herself to stand straight. She would not appear weak before him.

"Brother." She murmured. Merlin appeared at his side and the knights circled around her, keeping a wary eye on the high priestess' grave. "I see you've brought company."

"I've come to return you to Camelot, where the king has commanded your presence."

Morgana nodded, the motion causing her head to spin. "I see."

Arthur approached slowly, taking in the blank look of her eyes and the matted state of her black hair; the hem of her dress was torn and the dark red of her blood marred her pale skin. Merlin moved forward as well, noticing with a feeling akin to concern that she was shaking.

"What is it he wants from me? My head?" she simpered, her expression cold. She wanted nothing more than to cry into his embrace, to explain everything that had happened. To tell the truth and make it right with the only family she had ever known.

She knew though, with everything she had done to the people in Camelot she didn't deserve redemption; she deserved to be brought before the king and executed for what she had done. If she'd been stronger, she would have been able to fight against Morgause's control. But after the poisoning everything had happened so fast, so suddenly it had left her head spinning and there'd been no time to confront her sister.

All thoughts of the spell placed on Camelot and her part as the vessel had left her mind the moment she'd been thrown to the mandrake root, left to her tortured dreams. It didn't matter though, in one way or another it had been her fault; it had been her hand to come down that day and commanded the deaths of the citizens in the square and all the soldiers who had given their lives to fight against her.

"He wants to speak with you, as well as place judgment on your actions."

"Sounds reasonable." She managed. Her mind was reeling, the realization of her imminent death broaching on hysteria. "I don't, feel very well…" Morgana suddenly whispered, her vision coming to rest on Merlin.

He'd barely taken a step when she fell, his arms coming to catch her as she sunk towards the ground. Arthur knelt down beside them and lifted her hands, taking in the glass wedged into her bloodied palms.

"She's hurt." Merlin said dumbly, looking away from the piercing gaze Arthur shot at him.

"No really Merlin? I hadn't noticed what with her fainting and all." He thumped him on the back of the head and shifted Morgana into his arms, her head lolling to rest on his chest. "Tie her wrists." Arthur said, gesturing for Percival to come forward with the rope.

Merlin nodded, albeit reluctantly, and bound her wrists in front of her.

"Should we remove the glass?" he glanced up, surprised to see him looking somewhat concerned for her.

He shook his head, "No. Gaius will treat her, we don't have anything to bind the wounds here."

Arthur nodded and strode towards his mount, keeping his sister held firmly in his arms.

"Sire, would you like one of us to take her?" he turned as Sir Leon strode forward, his gaze flicking towards Morgana.

"I can handle her myself." He said resolutely, gesturing for Merlin to help him.

As he took the lady back into his arms, allowing him a moment to swing himself into the saddle, Merlin looked at her face. Streaked with blood and somewhat bruised she was still beautiful. Though while it had once been a classic beauty it was now tragic, ruined by her betrayal. His thoughts quickly drifted though, from her beauty to the things she had spat at her sister's corpse.

He had to wonder what she'd meant when she'd spoken in the clearing. Her words were full of anger and hate, and surprisingly it had all been directed towards Morgause.

"Merlin." He was startled out of his musings, and looked up to see Arthur staring down at him expectantly.

"Right." He helped him sit Morgana up on his horse, Storm, her body limp.

Arthur placed an arm around her waist and took the reins in hand, nudging forward as Merlin hurried to catch up. The knights mounted as well and rode ahead, scouting their journey back. Merlin nudged the gelding he rode into a brisk trot as he reached his friend's side.

Morgana's eyes were closed in sleep but the pinched, pained expression to her face never left her as she slept on in Arthur's arms. "What are you going to do with her?" his voice was quiet, solemn, as he tore his gaze from Morgana to look at Arthur. He took a breath, his jaw clenched as he steered around a fallen log.

"I don't know. I'll have to bring her to Gaius first, and if she's well enough I'll bring her to father. Then…" he trailed off, abruptly glancing down at her. "I'll consult with him on her punishment afterwards."

"Where will you keep her?"

"The dungeons?" he phrased it more as a question.

"Are you asking me? Your grace, I'm flattered that you'd look to me for guidance." Merlin joked.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

He glanced down at Morgana, suddenly reminded of the day he'd found her in the woods. When she'd been ambushed during her pilgrimage to her father's grave, and Guinevere had been captured in her stead. He'd barely taken the time to ensure her safety, so eager to begin his search for Guinevere.

Arthur tended to pride himself on his loyalty, especially now in the face of such upsetting betrayal. But he couldn't help but feel as if it had been partially his own fault. As soon as his infatuation with Gwen had arisen, he was ashamed to admit, he'd spurned most attention from Morgana.

He'd been with her practically his whole life; it was hard to imagine it without her in it. Now? He was forced to come to the realization that he would most likely be living in a world where she didn't exist at all, and that thought hit him with such stunning devastation that he found himself growing saddened.

What was a life without Morgana? He shuddered to think he'd have no choice but to find out.


	4. past to the present

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

A groomsmen awaited their arrival as they clattered into the courtyard. Arthur jumped from his horse and gathered Morgana into his arms, her bloodied hand hanging heavily across his back.

Merlin followed suit, handing their reins to the startled groomsmen. He hurried up the stairs past Arthur towards Gaius' chambers.

"Arthur is bringing Morgana in. She's hurt." His mentor nodded once, sweeping his things from the table in the center of the room. He placed down a coarse blanket and pillow for her head, and gathered his tools beside him as Arthur barged into the room.

He lowered Morgana to the table and stepped back as Gaius lent over her, unwrapping the bindings from her hands. The glass wedged beneath her skin was dark and hard to see, and the physician tsked as he adjusted his spectacles.

"The shards are quite deep. She will be in a great deal of pain should she wake. Merlin, hand me that tonic." he gestured to a small vial of purple glass.

Merlin retrieved it and pulled the stop, wincing at the acrid scent of smoke that wafted from it as he handed it to Gaius.

"Arthur, tilt her head." Reluctantly Arthur stepped forward, placing a hand beneath her neck. She jolted awake as he did so, her fingers wrapping around his wrist in a sudden move of surprising strength.

"Don't." Her voice was acid. He nodded slowly, raising his hands as he backed away.

Her gaze flickered from person to person and she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, the skirts of her dress swishing against the tops of her feet.

"I've been drugged enough for one lifetime." she snipped, her expression cold as she came to focus on Gaius.

He looked away, letting a sigh slip from his lips as he stood before her. "Give me your hands." she glared but laid them in her lap, palms up. "How did this happen?"

"I fell." she murmured. Her skin crawled as he touched her hand. She held nothing but disgust for the elderly physician, his crimes against her were many. He had drugged her sleep since she was a child, all too aware of the manifestation of her powers. He allowed her to believe she was slowly growing insane rather than tell her the truth of her situation.

She would never forgive him for treating her as a daughter to her face, while believing her to be an untrustworthy witch behind closed doors.

"Is it in your knees as well?" he inquired, his attention caught by the dark patches in her dress.

She pulled up her skirts. Merlin and Arthur turned away, eyes averted.

The glass had torn into her knees through the thin ragged material of her dress and bled down her legs, ribbons of scarlet skating down her calves towards her ankles.

"Hmm." he pulled a basin towards him, wringing out a wet cloth and placing it across her knees. "Merlin."

His apprentice turned, transfixed with the blood running down her legs. "Use these and pull the glass from her hands." he nodded, taking the tweezers in his grasp.

Morgana looked at him warily but did not flinch, holding her hand to him. Her skin was soft, though sticky with blood. The tweezers shook in his hand and he pulled a sliver from her palm, wincing as he dropped it into the bowl beside her.

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" Gaius said, having cleaned the blood from her legs.

"What do you mean?"

"You have lost quite a bit of blood, the glass having prevented your wounds from clotting. I need to know if you've had food or drink recently."

"Broth, some time ago."

"Your wounds are not life threatening, most likely you fainted due to lack of nourishment coupled with loss of blood. Otherwise, you are healthy. Though a bit paler than I remember."

"Put it down to lack of sunlight." she muttered dryly.

"Yes, I suppose you've been too busy plotting to spend time outdoors."

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, pulling her hands from Merlin's grip. "You speak as if you know me, Gaius. You know nothing. You are a pathetic old man who's spent your time as a physician drugging me to keep my magic from being realized. You let your fear control you, you let your loyalty to a mad tyrant keep you from saving your own people. You are no better than I." she turned away, calmed. To Arthur she said, "Now that I've been examined, am I fit to see the King?"

"Just a moment." Gaius spoke, somewhat recovered from her tongue-lashing. He opened the lid to a shallow jar, smearing the paste-like contents to her cuts. "This should help them heal." then he bounds them with cloth, nodding to Arthur. "That should be enough."

"Come, I will escort you to your chambers. A maid will be brought to you to come and clean you up. You look a fright."

She nodded, wishing her heart would not swell at the hope his partially playful tone gave her. She had betrayed Camelot, there was no forgiveness for what she had done.

The truth could set her free, she knew, but did she even deserve it?

"Morgana." she turned. "You're all done."

She looked down to her hands, bound with thin brown cloth, wrapped tight to help halt the flow of her blood. "Yes. Of course."

She slid from the table, her knees shaking for a moment. She waved away Merlin's offered hand and stepped towards Arthur, offering him her wrists.

He stared at her with something akin to bewilderment, but tied them, taking her arm as her her into the hall. Guards were stationed at every post, filling the corridors like rats in a sewer. They pierced her with their heavy glares, fingers twitching towards their swords.

She avoided their eyes as Arthur herded her to her chambers, slipping her restraints from her wrists before shutting her inside.

It looked as if she'd never left. Her windows were open, flowers on her table, her bed carefully made. For some reason she had expected it to look, changed.

"My lady." she turned. A young girl stood at her bedside. She curtsied gently and Morgana dipped her head. "Shall I help you undress?"

She nodded, turning her back. The maid loosened the laces of her dress with nimble fingers, pushing it to her shoulders. It dropped from her chest and pooled at her feet, leaving her in only her shift.

Unbothered by her state of undress she walked to the vanity, peering with disgust at her own reflection. "I must bathe. I do look a fright." she murmured, more-so to herself than the girl.

Nonetheless she acknowledged her words and offered a slight smile, "A bath has been prepared my lady, though I assure you, you still look quite beautiful."

She turned, curious. "You don't seem as scared as I would have thought."

"I don't believe everyone with magic is evil. And I've heard many good things about you, I don't suppose everything that has happened could be solely blamed on you."

Morgana tilted her head, "How old are you?"

"Ten and five my lady."

"And your name?"

"Claire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Claire."

"And you my lady."

Claire walked her to the bath and helped her to wash the blood from her hands and her hair, carefully pulling out the tangles and burs.

When she was clean and the water was dark Claire helped her into a simple blue gown, long sleeved and proper, then brushed her hair until it settled in waves down her back. She didn't bother with rouge or lip color, deciding she'd had enough of the pretender's face Morgause had given her. Looking in the mirror, she almost saw the girl she had been. Almost.

It was then, as she tucked a lock of clean hair behind her ear, she noticed the bracelet upon her wrist. The one her sister had gifted her, with the crest of their family etched on it.

The sight of it sickened her. She slid it from her wrist, calling Claire to her. The girl abandoned her task of attempting to fold the tattered red dress and came to her side, hands clasped at her middle.

"Destroy this." she handed her the bracelet, standing from the vanity to smooth her hands down the front of her gown.

"Destroy it? My lady, are you sure?"

She nodded, knocking at the door once to let Arthur know she was ready. "I am certain. I don't care how, burn it, crush it, you can even keep it if you so choose. I don't want it, and I wish never to see it again."

The girl looked at the bracelet, unassuming in it's beauty of the dark memories it held, and nodded. "As you wish my lady."

Arthur opened the door and stepped inside, a bare imitation of a smile gracing his face. Morgana looked like, Morgana. The one he'd grown up with and known all his life. No heavy makeup stained her beauty, and she went without the elaborate headdresses and jewels she'd favored in the months leading up to her betrayal.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded and he took her arm, surprising her by forgoing the ties meant for her wrists.

Her mind raced, panicking at the thought of finally facing Uther. The King, her father. She thought of all the things she had spoken to him upon their last meeting; she had been cruel. Even knowing what had been done to her to make her say those things, she couldn't bring herself to regret a word.

She tilted her chin high as they neared his rooms, she was no weak woman. She was strong, and she would stand by those things she had said to him. Her death was most likely imminent, why bother with lies of regret in hopes of redemption? It would have no meaning, only allow her temporary forgiveness before he followed through on her execution.

Before she even realized how little time she had to prepare herself, they stood at his door.

Arthur glanced down at her, taken aback by how frightened she looked.

 _You'll protect me, won't you Arthur?_ Just a child, having crawled into his bed after a nightmare, he remembered this same expression on her face. She was so young, having just lost her father. He'd promised to always protect her.

"Enter!" Their father's voice startled him from his musings, and he looked up to see the guard had knocked on the door on his behalf.

Clearing his throat Arthur stepped inside, Morgana tucked close to his side. She was startled to see Guinevere at the King's bed, tidying his blankets. She bowed to Arthur respectfully, and then rested her gaze on her former mistress.

Of all the people she had hurt Morgana regretted the actions she had taken against Gwen the most. She had been more than her maid, she had been her best friend. She had looked past Morgana's titles and treated her as a girl, bringing her flowers out of the goodness of her heart, holding her until she calmed when she'd woken from her horrifying prophetic dreams.

"Arthur. Morgana." she looked from the retreating Gwen, her gaze turning to Uther.

He'd managed to sit up against the myriad of pillows against his back, his expression one of cold indifference. He gestured for them to take a seat on either side of his bed.

Hesitantly Arthur dropped her arm, and took a seat, looking to the wall across from her. Arthur sat as well, his eyes nervously going to and from his father and sister.

"I assume you know why you have been summoned to me?"

"I suppose it could have something to do with my betrayal of Camelot, the wrongs I have committed, trying to steal the crown..." she listed sarcastically.

"Morgana," he started. "I will not pretend that I can forgive you for the treason you have committed, nor the magic you possess-"

She stood abruptly, her chair skidding back, nearly clattering to the floor. "Forgive? You think that I desire  _your_ forgiveness?"

"Sit down!"

"How dare you."

"How dare I? I am your King! You will show me some respect."

"You are no King. Least of all mine." He recoiled as if she had struck him. "I do not seek forgiveness from you. You are nothing but a sick, embittered old man. I have spent too long fearing for my life at your hand, when I should have felt safe beneath it. You allowed me to believe I was your ward, protecting me as a promise to my father, when you've known all the while that I was your daughter!" her clenched fists trembled as Uther stared up at her.

"Morgana, I could not have told you the truth of your birthright. You admired your father so much, I could not take that from-"

"Do not patronize me!" she spat, "You act under the guise of trying to protect me, when you were really too ashamed to admit to your kingdom that you betrayed your beloved Queen. You brought me to this place, a frightened young child, and let me believe I was nothing more than a burden on your shoulders. A promise to a fallen friend."

"You must know I have cared for you, you are my daughter. I love you Morgana, as I always have."

She scoffed, "And how have you shown it to me? By grabbing my neck, by attempting to execute my dearest friend, by locking me in a dungeon when I spoke out against you? That is not love, I fear you do not know the meaning of the word."

"I admit, perhaps I have not always made the wisest of decisions concerning you, but you must understand that I am the King. My duty to my kingdom comes first, and I have tried my best to do right by you."

"Does that include the persecution of innocents? Tell me father, now that you know of the magic that runs through my blood, when shall my execution take place? Or will you give me a warning rather?"

Arthur straightened at the mention of an execution, his stare burrowed in the side of his father's face.

The King's eyes hardened. "You will be treated as any other citizen of Camelot who has committed the great injustice of treason through practicing magic. Morgana," he broke off, his voice nearly cracking over her name. "I sentence you, to death. I cannot treat you any differently because of your relationship to myself. You have committed treason, and have conspired against Camelot. You have given me no choice. Your execution shall take place in a week's time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i have a ton of chapters written and already posted on fanfiction so to anyone subscribed to this story i'll be pretty much flooding with updates until i'm caught up. hope you enjoy :)


	5. my clarity

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

She thought, once she'd heard him sentence her, she'd feel something. Panic, maybe anger. But no, she was numb.

Across the bed Arthur swallowed hard in disbelief. "Father-"

"Take her away. She will stay in her chambers until you make the formal announcement." The King looked away, tired. He leaned back into his pillows, closing his eyes. He was ill, and this confrontation seemed to have exhausted his strength.

Arthur stood, leading her from the room with a hand on her arm. He stole glances, waiting for the -practically inevitable- escape attempt as they stepped inside her chambers.

But she did nothing, only walked to the bed as he closed the door behind him. He watched her closely, wishing he could say something. There was so much he wanted to say, so many questions burning at his tongue.

She sat at the edge of her bed, expression blank.

He had grown with her, shared his deepest secrets he would never have dared to tell another living soul. He'd known her better than anyone, or so he had thought. And if he knew anything, he knew this wasn't her. This person sitting before him was a shell, a fraud placed before him to eliminate the memories he was desperately clinging to.

"Who are you?" he murmured.

"I don't know anymore." he hadn't expected her to answer.

He sat beside her, pinkies barely touching. Slowly she reached out, touching her hand to his. "I wish I had known you were my brother."

"Why?"

"I would have made sure you knew how much I cared."

A tinge of blush stained his cheeks and he looked down, torn. "I wish I could talk you. I want nothing more than to pretend you're still Morgana, the Morgana I thought you were. But I can't, because you're, not."

"I know."

There was silence for a moment. "Why?" he spoke.

She had deliberately betrayed him, betrayed Camelot, their people. She had gone behind his back, conspired with Morgause, and plotted to murder him and take his crown.

"What?"

"How could you, how could you do this to me? To us? To Camelot? I don't understand it, any of it. Help me understand."

She looked to her lap, pulling her hand away slowly. There was nothing she wanted more than to tell him the truth, to explain everything that had led to this moment. To have his forgiveness meant everything to her, but she wanted didn't matter any longer. Someone had to pay for what had been done.

"I'm sorry."

He stood, angrily stepping away from her. His gaze one of accusation. "Sorry isn't an explanation. I want to know why. How could you do this to us?" he shouted.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!" he grabbed her arms, squeezing roughly as he shook her.

"Let go!" her eyes flashed and she pushed him away.

He sucked in a breath as he hit the wall, sliding to the floor with a dull thud. "Arthur!" she fell to her knees beside him, touching his face as his eyes fluttered open. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. I didn't want to, I swear." she cried, her head bowed.

Bewildered he hugged his side.

"I'll tell you everything. I swear. I cannot bear you looking upon me as if I am a monster."

"What are you talking about?" She took his hand, helping him to settle in a chair by the fire. "I don't understand."

"When, when Morgause took me, she brought me to Cenred's castle in Essetir. I was disoriented, and you must understand I wasn't in my right mind. She brought me to a cellar covered in mandrake root. She locked me inside for," she broke off, shaking her head. "I honestly don't know how long. But, it destroyed me. Mandrake root feeds off of your fears and weaknesses, and causes delusions of the cruelest kind."

"Delusions?"

"I would see those I cared for and loved. They would call me the most hideous names, taunt me, threaten me with death and torture me in unimaginable ways. It never let me sleep, and I screamed so long I lost my voice. Then, Morgause returned. Every few days or so she'd bring me food and drink, and serve as a reminder that she was the only person to care for me any longer."

He looked to the flames, doubtful. "All that, with mandrake root?"

"Yes. It's a ritual performed only by a High Priestess. They call it the teine diaga. It takes the victim's soul and twists it until it's no longer their own. When it was finished, and she took me from the cell and I was hers to command."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "How do I know you're no longer under her control?"

"When the High Priestess dies her victims are released, and the memory of their time with the mandrake root is realized. "

"You mean, after everything that took place in that cell, you didn't remember any of it?"

"No. It's a part of the ritual. When she took me from the cellar I remembered nothing that she did not wish me to. I held nothing but hatred in my heart for those I left behind in Camelot. And whenever I tried to think of something good, I was faced with the same images from my terrors."

"And yet, with everything that you have told me, you still stand by everything you've said to our father."

She shook her head, "How could you hope to understand? How could you ever know what it's like to live under the rule of this merciless tyrant king, and realize that you have magic? To hope with everything you have that he'll understand and still care for you, but to know that he'll have you killed as he does all the others? You don't know what it's like to realize that he's killing your brothers and sisters, the people who are just like you and you're powerless to stop it."

She twisted her hands in her lap. "And then, to find out that he's my father. To realize that the man who whose grave I've traveled to countless times was raising a bastard. It hurts more than all of it. I hate Uther for taking the memory of my true father from me. And what's worse, he's never bothered to acknowledge me. I heard him once, speaking to Gaius when he thought I was asleep. He admitted it to him, and he spoke of how no one could ever know. Not even I. I gave him countless opportunities to admit it, and he passed each one by without a word."

Arthur stayed quiet. He could see these things from her point of view, and understand how they could drive her to such unimaginable fear. But Uther was still his father, still the man who'd raised him and cared for him his whole life.

But Morgana, she was his sister.

"I feared for my life, and everywhere I turned there was another person telling me that I was only imagining things." she stood, pacing before the fireplace. "Do you have any idea how many times I dreamed of your death? You could never understand how alone I felt, there was no one to turn to, to assure me I was sane. And then Morgause was here, and she told me she was my sister. She was family, and she cared for me, and she had magic. Suddenly I wasn't so alone."

"You were never alone in the first place!" Arthur objected. "You had me, Guinevere, even Merlin. Why didn't you come to us? Were we really so distrustful?"

"I went to Merlin! I told him what I feared and he said there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to help me. And you? Gwen? I was always alone. The moment you infatuation with Gwen arose you left me alone. Neither of you wanted to speak with me anymore for fear I would find out about your precious feelings for one another. How was I meant to trust you when you couldn't return the gesture?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember my pilgrimage to my father's grave, when we were ambushed?"

"Of course."

"I managed to get away but Gwen was taken. When you found me in the woods you barely spared me a look before asking where she was. You showed no concern for me, no care that I was bloodied and bruised and in nothing more than a shift. All you cared about was returning for her. At the time I suppose I was too stupid to notice how little my safety meant, but you only made it more clear as time went on. I thought," she broke off, looking to the fire. "I thought you would always be there."

He stood, pushing past the pain in his side, and flung his arms about her. She gasped, her arms limp at her sides. He held her to him with all the strength he had, "I never meant to make you feel this way. You are never alone."

He pulled back, his hands resting upon her shoulders. Her lower lip trembled, they were the same words her sister had spoken to her. But coming from her brother, they meant something more.

She smiled, bringing her arms around him.

\--

Merlin watched the exchange through the slots of Morgana's dressing screen, his hand squeezing Guinevere's. They hadn't meant to spy, but when they'd heard their steps in the hall they'd hidden, crouched in the corned behind the screen.

To say Morgana's explanation had changed their view on the past year was an understatement. If what she said was true, it put many unanswered questions into perspective.

Arthur and Morgana pulled apart, cheeks flushed. Neither was known for their displays of affection, and everything they'd been forced to go through in the span of only hours had taken its toll.

"Better late than never I suppose." Morgana murmured, sitting down again.

Arthur sighed, taking a seat as well. "Don't talk like that. When I explain to father what you've told me, he'll have no choice but to retract his decision.

"Arthur, he won't believe. He'll only think I've cast some sort of spell over you."

"You are my sister Morgana. My blood. We have grown together, and you have always stood by my side. I will not leave yours." he took her hand. "Morgause took advantage of you, used you for her own selfish purposes. I will not watch you die for actions that were not your own."

Gwen gasped. Merlin smacked a hand over her mouth.

"What was that?" He looked up at Arthur's voice, eyes wide as the Prince looked in their direction.

"I'm sure it was nothing." He turned back to Morgana, rubbing his head.

"Father said you have a week until the execution. We will figure something out. I will not let this happen to you."

"You can't stop this Arthur. Someone is to pay for the lives of those people. It will be me."

He stood, his chair scraping noisily against the floor as it slid back.

"I'll figure this out Morgana. Don't worry. I'll be back soon. The formal announcement will not take place if I have anything to say about it."

"Arthur-" she held out a hand to stop him but he ignored her, striding across the room. The door slammed behind him.

Morgana stayed frozen for a moment, biting her lip. She glared in the direction of the screen. "You can come out now. I'm sure you've heard more than enough." Merlin glanced to Guinevere, her eyes wide at the realization that they'd been discovered. "I said come out. I know you're there."

Slowly he stood, sheepish at having been caught snooping. He helped Gwen from the floor and they stepped from behind the screen, "How long did you know?"

"I heard you gasp." she stood up, wandering to her armoire where she pulled out a nightgown.

"Were you telling the truth? How are we supposed to believe you weren't lying?" Gwen asked.

Morgana turned, tossing the nightgown atop the bed. She stared at the girl she'd once called her best friend. "I suppose you don't. But if it means anything to you, I swear on my life that I am telling the truth. And I wish for you to know, that I regret hurting you more than anything." she frowned tearfully at the woman who had once been her maid, and was now the undoubted future Queen of Camelot.

"I am so sorry for everything that I've done. I don't expect you to forgive me, but-" Guinevere pulled her into an embrace, muffling her last words.

"I forgive you. You are and always will be my best friend." she murmured softly.

Morgana returned her embrace fiercely, face burrowed in her neck. "Thank you."

Merlin watched the exchange cautiously. He wanted nothing more than to believe Morgana was telling the truth, but it was hard to forget the months she'd spent threatening him and glaring at him from across rooms.

"May I speak with Merlin, alone?"

He glanced up, startled to see Gwen nodding understanding; leaving the room with a supportive smile tossed in his direction.

And then it was just the two of them.

"Since my sister's death, I have been able to put some things in perspective. I see now that you poisoned me to save Camelot. That it wasn't just to hurt me. I can't rightly say that I understand why you chose to do it in such a manner, for all you know I would have done it myself."

She paused, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sought the words. "I thought we were friends, and I thought you trusted me."

"Mor-"

"Please. Let me speak." he nodded.

"I don't have long left. Despite what Arthur thinks Uther will not budge in his ruling. I would know best of all that when he makes a decision he rarely goes back on his word. I don't wish to spend the rest of my days holding a grudge against you, and while I cannot forgive you, I can say that I don't blame you. And I hope, if only for a few moments, we can be friends again."

He tried hard to push past the sincerity in her voice, to discern between truths and lies but the line was blurring. Everything inside him screamed that she was being honest, that the vulnerable expression she wore could be nothing but real.

But then he looked back, and he remembered when he had seen her on her bed, having just returned from her year long absence, teary-eyed and repentant. She had tricked him then, who was to say she wasn't now?

Except, she was to die. What reason was there to lie to him? Or anyone for that matter? Morgause was dead and any ally she had in her twisted hopes to take the throne were gone. She was alone.

Perhaps this was her way of ensuring she wasn't completely on her own in the last few days of her life, and should that be true, he certainly wouldn't hold it against her.

"I understand." he nodded, offering a smile. "I hope the same. There is nothing I want more than for things to be okay between us. I've," he paused, unsure of expressing his feelings. "I've missed you. The real you."

She laughed, somewhat darkly. "I don't think I know the real me anymore."

"I do. The real Morgana is kind and compassionate, she cares for the people of Camelot, sometimes more than she cares for herself. She knows how to treat people like they are worth something, and she's not afraid to speak her mind. She's a good person, and she's someone I care about very much. And I'm very sorry to have hurt her." He took her hand, hoping he wasn't crossing whatever lines had been set between them.

"Do you think there's a chance I could ever, be her again?"

She tilted her head to look into his eyes, full of hope and yet solemn.

He nodded. "I believe, if you are sincere, that anything is possible if given the time."

Neither spoke that time was one thing she didn't have much of. She released his hand, smoothing her fingers down the front of her dress.

"I suppose I should let you get some rest, it's been a trying day."

He agreed, bidding her a good night as he swept from her chambers.

Alone, she took a breath. She was tired, and wished for sleep, but her muddled thoughts would not allow her rest. She stood by the fireplace.

With the unintended forgiveness she had earned from Arthur came a sense of relief, and it worried her. The last thing she wanted was to grow used to the feeling of belonging again, it would only make it harder to accept her predetermined death.

Arthur believed he could change their father's mind, but she knew better. She may be his daughter, but that had no effect on the laws against magic. They clearly stated, sorcery was to be punished by death.

Camelot meant more to him than she ever had.

It was then, coming to the realization that there was no escaping her fate, the fear of death she had been waiting for finally came. She wasn't ready to die.

She crumpled to the floor before the fire, her cries racking her body. Claire found her moments later, and held her until she'd cried herself into an uneasy sleep.

\--

Gaius stood as Merlin entered their rooms, arms crossed. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his tone noticeably concerned.

"I don't know where to begin." he murmured, sitting down at the table. Gaius joined him.

"I must attend to the King. Tell me what you can?"

"Morgana is to be executed in a week's time. And if I'm to believe what she told Arthur, Morgause was controlling her the entire time."

The physician recoiled in surprise, "How so?"

"She said it was mandrake root, some ritual only performed by high priestesses of the old religion."

"Teine diaga."

Merlin looked up in surprise, "You know of it?"

"Yes. When I was young I heard talk of an ancient ritual of the old religion called the teine diaga. The ritual used mandrake root to bring unimaginable terror to the victim. When it was finally over, their will was no longer their own, they were slaves to the high priestess' for eternity. But, seeing as Morgause was the last of them, Morgana may very well have broken from it. That is, if she was telling the truth in the first place."

"And if she was, she'll be executed for something she had no control over."

"Merlin." Gaius grabbed his hand, his voice stern. "There is nothing you can do to stop this. Do not put yourself in danger for her. She could very well be lying to you and Arthur."

Merlin nodded, smiling weakly. "I know. I won't do anything."

"Good. I'll be back soon. The king has grown weaker, and I've done all I can do. It won't be long now." Gaius said solemnly, squeezing his shoulder as he left the room.

Merlin retired to his bed, changing slowly into his night clothes. His thoughts ran rampant, skimming over everything Morgana had said to both him and Arthur.

He knew she had been a good liar in her time of deception, but there was something in his gut that told him she was telling the truth. Every part of him screamed to take the leap of faith and do something.

And so as he settled beneath his blankets and rested his head upon his pillows, he began to plot. Gradually, a plan formed in his mind.

A plan to save Morgana.


	6. i could pull you from the fire

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

3 days

For Morgana, three days passed fairly quickly. Through Gaius and various other messengers she was informed of the proceedings that would lead to her execution.

She was permitted to continue living in her chambers up until the formal announcement, and would then be transferred to a cell in the dungeons below the castle. Until that time she was to remain in her chambers with only Arthur, Gaius, and her maid allowed entry.

Being confined to only one room of the castle, she found herself without much to do. She read the books upon her shelves and slept hours into the day, hoping to make the time go quicker. It helped.

Arthur however stewed, unable to rest. His hatred for his father was growing, the thought of his sister burning creating a pit in his stomach.

"Are you ready?" Merlin asked.

Arthur sighed, stepping over to the window. He looked down to the square, where the pyre would soon be erected. The people were gathered, waiting for him to step out onto the balcony.

"No." he could think of nothing but Morgana, tied to the pyre, flames licking at her skin until it peeled away and death claimed her.

He couldn't follow through with this. He could not stand idly by as his sister burned for crimes she was not truly responsible for. He no longer cared if it meant breaking the rules he'd so long instilled, he refused to watch her die.

He swept from the room, shoulders squared. He would do this, he would announce her execution. And then, he would free her. Somehow.

Merlin followed at a safe distance until they found themselves at the balcony. Arthur's crown glinted in the sunlight filtering through the stain glass windows beside them, and he couldn't help but think that it should be raining.

It wasn't right that it was such a beautiful day witnessing such disheartening happenings. Morgana was innocent; he knew it with such certainty it actually frightened him. Why couldn't his father see that?

He stepped out into the light. The people below cheered and called his name, relishing in the presence of their golden Prince. A smile curved his lips at the loyalty of his people.

"Citizens of Camelot." His hand rose and they quieted. "I have called you here to announce the capture of the lady Morgana. For treason against the crown and the crime of possessing magic, she is to be punished in four days' time. Her sentence, to be put to death by way of fire."

He released them to return to their duties with some parting words, ignoring the dull roar of the crowds chatter. He turned and nearly ran to his chambers, his cape fluttering out behind him.

There was nothing in the world that could convince him to stay and listen to the angry slurs of his people, brandishing his sister with their hurtful words. And with all his heart he cursed Morgause, for putting her in this spot.

A hand through his hair sent his crown crashing to the stone floor. He couldn't bring himself to care. Merlin picked it up in his stead, watching solemnly as the Prince turned the corner and disappeared.

\--

4 days

Merlin knocked to no answer, and made his way inside the King Regent's chambers. Arthur sat despondently at his desk by the window, gazing out towards the square.

Preparations to build the pyre had begun, and he could not tear his eyes away from the partially constructed platform. The people milled about, going about their daily business, though some had stopped to watch the construction with flickers of excitement and satisfaction.

It sickened him to see the pleasure they felt at an execution. His father had instilled such hatred of magic in these people that they seemed to crave death, believing so strongly that all those with magic sought was to harm them.

He could not fathom how quickly they had turned on his sister. Morgana had been their biggest support, their most outspoken advocate. She had gone far out of her way to ensure they were well fed and taken care of, when his father could not be bothered to see their plight.

But then, from what they had seen she'd turned on them. Morgause had ordered her to put those citizens to death in the square, but they didn't know that.

"Arthur." he looked up, startled at Merlin's sudden presence.

He closed the door behind him and walked to the table, fidgeting with the scarf at his neck.

"Merlin."

"Sire..."

"Yes?"

"I have to ask..."

"Will you spit it out? I haven't got all day."

"You aren't really going to allow this execution to go forth, are you?"

Arthur looked at the papers scattered across his desk, scratching at irritation at his jaw. "No. Though I haven't the faintest idea how to stop it."

"Good. Because I have an idea."

"You've been plotting? Behind my back?"

"I would never do such a thing." he snipped. "I simply thought ahead to help you in your endeavors. Just as any other hard-working manservant would do."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Before we go any further, are you sure this is the best plan of action?"

"I can't watch her die Merlin. She's my sister. And I can't explain it, but I know she's telling the truth."

"So do I."

Arthur stood so quickly his chair fell back. "Guinevere?"

"I'm sorry sire. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but, I heard what you said." she clasped her hands resolutely and gazed at him evenly. "And I want to help."

\--

5 days

Her hay filled cot was uncomfortable and she found her skin had grown irritated from the straw that poked through the fabric, sticking her late at night. She'd only spent two days in her cell, but her body was already sore from the lumpy bed.

She didn't have a pillow either, not that she had a particular use for one. There wasn't much sleep taking place in her cell.

The nights passed without warning and suddenly that tiny strip of light had moved across the floor again. She had grown weary, the sleepless night coupled with minuscule portions of food having weakened her.

She supposed this must be intentional, to ensure she would not try anything at her execution. They thought so little of her; choosing only to see what she had become and not who she had so recently been.

It saddened her that the life she'd lived in Camelot could so easily be wiped away by the smear of one mistake, her good deeds so easily forgotten.

Her tired eyes lazily followed the dust motes as they drifted through the beam of light, her fingers reaching out. For a moment she felt the sun on her skin, and smiled.

\--

6 days

Their plan was finalized. It would take place that night. It was quite simple, but it was solid. There were a series of elaborate tunnels beneath that castle that snaked out into the woods, just beyond Camelot's walls. Accessible through a hidden passage in the library, which was brought to Arthur's attention through a sheepish and unable/unwilling-to-explain Merlin.

Their first step:

Gwen would bring Morgana's guards their supper, laced with a sleeping agent, and use Arthur's master key to open the lock on her cell.

The second step:

Merlin would wait in the library with enough supplies to last a two day journey. His ailing mother in Ealdor would be used to explain his absence, should anyone wonder.

When Gwen arrived at the library with Morgana, they would take to the tunnels. At the edge of the wood, they would take two horses -previously left by Merlin- and ride through the night until they reached Ealdor.

His mother would hopefully allow them to stay for a few days until Morgana found a more permanent location to stay until somehow, someway, Arthur cleared her name.

Anxiously Guinevere watched as the cook prepared the guards supper. It was still light out, the sun gradually lowering in the sky. The days were growing longer again, and it felt as if it was only midday.

She gratefully pulled the tray of plates she was handed into her arms and spun on her heel, being careful not to drop anything as she made her way to the dungeon.

To her surprise, a single guard stood posted at the entrance to the cells.

"I'm here to bring supper. Where are the others?" her voice trembled despite herself.

"You haven't heard? The King has moved up the execution, they're escorting the witch to the pyre as we speak." He took a plate from the tray as it dropped from her hands.

The potatoes and bread were flung to the stone and he cursed as sauce spattered his boots. Guinevere ran as fast as she could, her skirts fisted in her hands and she knocked shoulders with servants and ruched a corner.

She jolted to a stop as she hit Arthur's chest, her wrists held in his grasp.

"My father's moved the execution forward."

"The guard just told me. What will we do?"

A cheer rang out and they moved to the window, their matching horrified expressions finding Morgana. Her wrists were shackled behind her back and each guard held an arm, dragging her up towards the platform.

Time was up. They clasped hands and took to the square.

\--

Merlin shoved his way to the front of the crowd, elbows knocking aside those who stood in his path. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what he _could_ do.

Gaius grabbed hold of his arm as he reached the front line of spectators, shaking his head with guilt in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Merlin. He kept it from me."

His mentor spoke of Uther, whose decision to move her execution forward had been a sudden one he had consulted with no one. He had decided to leave nothing to chance.

His son had proven how far his determination would take him in the past, and Morgana was his sister. He was not so foolish as to believe Arthur would stand by and allow her death without trying to do something to stop it.

Now he sat in a chair upon the balcony, tears stinging at his eyes as he listened to his subjects call for his daughter's death.

She had killed their friends, members of their family, and they were eager to see her be punished. Some felt the sting of betrayal stronger than others, remembering a time when the lady had gone through their streets with baskets of food to be handed to those in need. They mourned her loss. But most others were blinded by the hate in their hearts, viewing her only as a creature of magic, and evil they had been taught to fear.

The King felt unimaginable guilt over what he was to do, but he knew it was right. She was a sin, an unholy being of darkness created through his own wrongdoings. She was born to bring about Camelot's downfall.

Merlin watched as she was led to the pyre, her wrists shackled around the stake. She faced the crowd defiantly, eyes open and gazing up at the sun.

"Morgana."

As if she could hear him above the hateful slurs she looked down, and saw him. Their eyes met, and she smiled.

"Thank you." she whispered, but he could hear.

He knew she was thanking him for his forgiveness, for finally believing the truths she had told. Somehow he knew this.

The crowd was quiet suddenly, turning to the balcony above where Uther had struggled to his feet. A guard stood on either side, helping him stand on feeble legs. He raised his hand, and dropped it.

The executioner dropped the lit torch to the base of hay bales that surrounded her stake. Arthur stood at the platform steps, screaming for her release, to the astonishment of the crowd. Gwen stood just behind him, hands clasped over her lips in despair.

The flames grew steadily and a single tear fell from Morgana's eye.

Something possessed him then, something he would never understand. Panic and determination seized him. Seeing her cry as the flames moved until they hid her from view sent him to a place he never knew existed.

He tore his arm from Gaius' hand and elbowed the guard in front of him with strength he wasn't aware he possessed, sending him to his knees. His hands found the platform and he hoisted himself up, the flames parting for him.

His eyes glowed as he grasped her through the fire, his lips moving rapidly as the wind whipped around them. Her body went limp and her head dropped to his shoulder and then, in a flash of light and smoke, they were gone.

Left behind were only the flames, licking at the straw as the sparks reached for the sky.

Arthur found that he could no longer hear anything; not the screams and shouts of panic from the citizens running for cover, nor Guinevere calling his name. His gaze was focused only on the spot where two of the most important people in his life had just been, now gone.

Uther stared down from the balcony at his bewildered son, his hand over his heart as sudden pain lanced through his chest.

She was gone. Morgana was gone.


	7. darkness falls in our favor

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

When Merlin woke, it was to the sensation of something soft against his cheek. He opened one eye warily, recoiling at the looming presence of a horse.

It snorted at his sudden movement, and walked a few steps away, grazing leisurely as Merlin propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. The light of day was fading quickly, and he could just make out the beginning of a sunset over a distant ridge.

To his right Morgana lay still, her dark hair splayed about her head, her face pale. Her calves to her feet were red with the blood of broken blisters caused by the flames that had touched and subsequently burnt her flesh. He lurched towards her, wincing at the pain in his bones. He touched his fingers to her neck. Her pulse beat steadily, her brow furrowed in restless sleep.

She was alive.

He would get them to Ealdor still, and she would be okay. His mother would help him to treat her burns and she would recover. Then he would talk with Arthur...

The recollection of what exactly he had just done hit him. He had revealed his magic in front of virtually the entire kingdom of Camelot.  _To save Morgana_ a part of him whispered.

He looked up at the sound of warning bells, chiming their escape. There was no time, he had to stop dawdling and they needed to start moving.

Merlin struggled to his feet, leaning heavily up against a tree until he'd gathered his breath. The horses he'd prepared grazed only a few steps away, their leads tied to a low lying branch.

He walked, slowly but somewhat steadily, to the horse Arthur had given him. It took a few clumsy attempts but he managed to get a semi-aware Morgana onto it's back, hoisting his saddle pack onto the second. He tied it's lead to his stallion's saddle and climbed on behind Morgana, pulling her to lean against his chest.

He clicked his heels into his horse's sides and they started off to the hunting party's trumpeting horns.

\--

Arthur made his way to his chambers slowly and without a word, Guinevere at his side. She had not spoken since they'd left the square, her fingers twisted tight around the fabric of her skirt.

He opened the heavy wooden door to his chambers and ushered her inside, shutting the door with a wary gaze into the empty corridor.

The tapping of his boots echoed as he moved to his desk, sinking exhausted into his chair. Guinevere stood nervously by his bed, feeling the rough wood of the foot-board with her fingers.

It was as if she suddenly needed to touch something, to feel a sense of reassurance that whatever it was beneath her fingertips had to be real, for she could feel it. Magic could not be felt, it was in the sky, permeating the air around them. It was uncertain, unsubstantial, and it scared her that something she couldn't feel could be so devastatingly real.

"Did you know?" he'd dropped his head to his hands. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, for fear she would say something that could hurt him nearly as badly as Merlin's betrayal had.

"No." she perched herself on the edge of his bed. "How could he have kept this from me?"

"Do you think he saved Morgana?"

They spoke at the same moment, and looked up into the others eyes from opposite sides of the room.

"Yes. I have no doubt." she said. No matter the doubts she held in her head concerning Merlin's magic, his betrayal, she had to believe that he'd gotten to Morgana in time to save her. She had to believe, or all hope was lost. His sacrifice, his reveal, it would have been for nothing.

They tensed as the door was flung open, a guard standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway.

"Sire." he glanced at Guinevere. "My Lady. It's the King. Gaius has asked that you come to his chambers."

\--

His horse moved sure footed through the forest, threading around trees and brush without a sound. Morgana was limp and heavy in Merlin's arms, her head resting in the hollow of his throat.

Her long fingers gripped at his sleeve as they rode on, and in her sleep she moaned in pain. His heart constricted and he tightened his arm around her waist, urging his horse on. He knew it was detrimental to her health to ride through the night, but he felt there was no other choice.

He had no healing spells for Morgana's burns, and if they stopped for the night and made camp, he felt unsure of whether or not she would make it to Ealdor. He had from Gwen of the little bits of food she'd been fed whilst in the dungeons, and the circles under her eyes were evidence enough of the lack of sleep she'd gotten. With the stress of it all and her execution, her body had taken a heavy toll.

Striker was a strong horse, and he had faith that he would get them to Ealdor in quick time. It wouldn't be long now, a few hours at most. They were nearly there.

\--

Gaius looked up solemnly as the King regent entered his fathers chambers, his gaze moving to the frail unrecognizable figure of Uther. Small and prone he lay on his back, propped up by a mountain of pillows.

He looked nothing like the strong man he'd been for so many years upon the throne. He looked nothing like a King.

He smiled at the sight of his son, a hand raising feebly. "Arthur. Come here my son."

Arthur moved to his bed side, reluctantly taking his hand. He'd nearly succeeded in having his sister killed only hours ago. But a part of him felt only pity, knowing his fathers plight against magic was fueled by fear.

And yet, what if Morgause had spoken the truth that day? He hated to entertain the thought after all that Morgana had endured at her hands, but perhaps she had been truthful when she had shown him his mother. What if his father had seen magic as a tool, and used it for his own gain when it suited him?

Who was he to decide whether it was used properly?

Who was he to decide who was to live or die?

"I want you to know how sorry I am. I am sorry there was a sorcerer living among us, I wasn't able to protect you from him."

His jaw tightened. As if Merlin could hurt him, he wouldn't dare to entertain the thought. At least not here, not now, where his father could take his doubts and twist them to his advantage.

"It's alright, father. I'm safe."

He shook his head, his brow shone with a thin veil of sweat. "No. I have only ever tried to do right by you and your sister, but I have failed. I'm sorry for that." he turned, coughing violently.

Gaius frowned, dabbing his head with a cool cloth. "I'm sorry Arthur. He'll be gone soon."

He nodded, squeezing his father's hand. For a moment he allowed himself to forget it all. He thought only of the man who'd raised him, who'd taken care of him his whole life.

He remembered when Morgana had come to stay with them, just a girl. She'd been so lost in her grief that she'd barely spoken a word. Uther had leant down and touched her cheek, and assured her she would always be safe with him.

They'd become a family, and it pained him to remember how close they'd once been. Rides through the forest, picnics by the lake, indulging in merriment they thought they'd know for the rest of their lives. When had it all changed?

He thought of these memories but he couldn't recall when they'd become just that, memories. And now he sat by his father's side, watching as he struggled through his last breaths.

"I forgive you." he lied.

There was no point to torment him as he died. What would he gain by causing his father to suffer in his last moments.

Uther smiled, and breathed in. He didn't breath out.

\--

An owl hooted overhead and Merlin jerked, he'd nearly dozed off. Striker had slowed to a heavy plod, his sides heaving from their long journey he'd mostly run.

He narrowed his eyes at a light in the distance. As they neared, he could pick out a house from the dark shapes and shadows of the wood.

Weary but hopeful he slid to the ground, taking care to keep Morgana in the saddle. She leaned forward onto the horses neck, her arms circled loosely about it's neck. He could see his mother's house.

He took the horses reins and led him forward, keeping to the shadows. There was a shack behind the garden of the house, the perfect place to store the horses. It was just big enough. Hurriedly he ushered them inside, pulling Morgana into his arms.

She cried out in pain and he winced, carrying her as quickly as possible to the door in the back. With his foot he kicked at the door, praying to whoever it was that watched over him.

"Who's there?"

"It's me mother. Merlin." The door swung open, and the excited grin she wore quickly vanished. She held a lantern in one hand, the skirt of her dressing gown in the other.

"Bring her through, to the cot."

He ducked inside, the door clicking closed behind him. Hunith made for the hearth and lit a fire, lifting a heavy cast iron pot of water onto the hook above the starting flames.

He lowered Morgana onto the cot he'd once slept upon, cradling her head until it touched the pillow. She moaned as her body settled, her fingers unfurling from their hold on his shirt. He knelt beside her, taking her hand. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, sweat gathering on her brow.

"Here we are." Hunith came to his side, a damp cloth in her hand. She placed it across her forehead, cooing quietly as she whimpered. "Where is she hurt?"

"Her legs are burnt, and her hands. I should be able to heal her, I just-" he rubbed at his head. "I can't remember, there's a spell..."

She touched his cheek, stroking softly with her thumb. "It's alright. We'll make do."

He nodded, taking comfort in his mother's assurances. It had been so long, too long, since he'd been here with her.

"Now. I need you to get me some herbs from the garden. I'll make a paste to dress her wounds. It should bring down the swelling and help the skin to heal." she moved down Morgana's body, lifting the dress to her knees.

He retreated to the door as she rattled off the herbs she'd need. He turned to see Morgana watching him go, her hand outstretched in his direction. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked outside, blinking back tears.

If she didn't make it... He shook his head. He could not entertain the thought. She was good, Morgana was a good person who'd been dealt a bad hand in her life. She didn't deserve to die like this.

She didn't deserve to die at all.

\--

The sound of bells tolling the news of the King's death rang out in the night, waking the sleeping citizens of Camelot from their slumber. Arthur stood by his window, awake as he had been since the moment his father had taken his last breath.

Looking down at the courtyard he almost expected to see Merlin fumbling with a pile of armor much too big for him to carry. The sight of servant, and friend, disappearing in the middle of a storm cloud of magic wouldn't leave his mind no matter how strongly he willed it to; nor would the image of his sister burning at the stake.

Guinevere stood just outside his door, her hand raised as she struggled to find the courage to knock. The guard at the end of the hall watched her with muted amusement and she forced a smile, biting her lip as she forced her first to do quick rap.

Arthur appeared in the open door. "Guinevere."

"Arthur."

He stepped aside. She wrung her wrists as she stepped into his room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Candles were lit upon the walls, bathing the room in a warm golden glow, and the curtains were drawn tight across every window but one.

She couldn't help but notice it overlooked the semi-dismantled platform, the burned and gnarled wood in a pile beside it. When it had become obvious Merlin and Morgana were not attempting to attack Camelot the people had gone to work putting out the growing blaze, dousing it in moments. She'd almost expected them to rise from the ashes.

"It's late." Arthur pulled her from her thoughts. She nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just..." she trailed off.

Arthur walked closer, taking her hands gently. "It's alright. I think I understand."

"You do?"

He took her to the table by the hearth, sitting across from one another. "You're confused. As am I. I just don't understand how Merlin could keep something like this from me. I thought we were friends." he muttered 'friends' bitterly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why would he?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"He is but a servant, and could you honestly tell me you would not have said a word to your father if he had told you? How was he to know he could trust you with such a secret?"

"I'm his friend, he should have had faith in me."

"But do you trust him? If he had told you would you have thought he was an innocent man? You have had time to think about this, and he isn't here to speak with, it's easy to say these things when he's not here to say them to."

Arthur looked into the flames.

"I'm sorry, I spoke out of term." she stood to leave. "I should go."

"No." he got to his feet and took her hand.

"I'm sorry." she shook her head. "I just, I can't bear to think that I will never get a chance to ask him any of these things. What if he never comes back? What if Morgana is dead? Did we get her back for so short a time only to lose her again?"

He frowned, feeling selfish. He had thought nothing of Guinevere's feelings through all of this. He pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek atop her head. They held tight to one another, taking comfort in their solitude.

\--

Morgana had fallen asleep some time ago, her legs and hands coated in an herb paste and wrapped over with cloth. His mother had taken great care of her, and had started a stew above the hearth.

He watched her work as his thoughts strayed to Morgana and the guilt he felt. He had the ability to take her pain but was unable, all because the stress of the day had made it too difficult to bring to mind a simple healing spell.

His mother was positive Morgana had developed a fever, and had covered her in blankets to help her sweat it out.

"Are you ready to talk?" Hunith leaned over him, handing him a bowl. He sighed.

"I outed myself to all of Camelot."


	8. i'll be good

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

"I have to go back."

His explanation hadn't taken long. He'd detailed his account of the story he and Morgana shared, spanning from the betrayal of poison to her return and ultimate sacrifice. Hunith had been silent throughout, lips pursed in obvious disappointment.

They were quiet, the only sound that of the flames snapping and crackling in the hearth. Morgana shifted restlessly behind them from her cot, mumbling incoherently.

"What for?" Hunith finally spoke, placing her mug on the ground beside her chair. Merlin dropped his gaze, turning to look upon Morgana. She struggled with her fitful sleep, eyebrows pinched, skin stricken with light sweat.

Hunith had explained that the stress on her body - both from the treatment she'd received in the dungeon and the arduous journey to Ealdor - had left her vulnerable to sickness. She'd caught a fever that turned her skin clammy yet had her crying of a burning heat, and twisted her insides until she retched what little food she'd been able to take down.

His mother's concern was evident, and his guilt was palpable.

"The spell book Gaius gave me. It can heal her." he rubbed at his forehead. "I owe her this." More than this he thought to himself. Hunith only nodded, smoothing her fingers over the creases in the blanket across her lap.

"I understand. You'll leave in the morning. You're no help to anyone like this." He didn't bother with arguing, it would have been for naught. So he obeyed, laying out his blanket by Morgana's bedside.

In the morning light, Hunith stood in the doorway to her humble home and watched as her son disappeared through the trees, his large black horse delving into a gallop as the sun rose in the sky. She bit her lip, thinking the worst of his return to Camelot.

She had faith in her son's abilities to keep himself safe, but as a mother her worry was not something she could push aside. What if Arthur was more like the King than Merlin truly realized? What if his good intentions only served to bring him toward more danger? What if-

Morgana coughed violently from behind her, cutting through her dark thoughts. She cleared her throat and slowly shut the door, latching the wooden board across.

Morgana moaned and she hurried to her side, refreshing the cloth for her head in the bucket of water at her bedside. The fever had grown worse through the night, and she shivered.

Hunith frowned at the state of her long black hair as it got in the way, gathering it into a long braid over her shoulder. She tucked away the strands that persisted in sticking to the sheen of sweat that covered her face, hooking them behind her ears.

She cried out in pain, grabbing for Hunith's wrist. Her eyes flickered open, so pale and blue they resembled ice. She gazed up at her, lips trembling. "Why?" she whispered raggedly.

"Why what sweet one?" she murmured.

Morgana's fingers tightened, weakly attempting to pull her closer. "Why didn't he let me die?"

Hunith was quiet, attempting to gather the wits she'd so abruptly lost. Merlin had told her everything, of his doubt concerning Morgana's story, and his inability to truly believe whether she meant the things she had said. What he had not told her was what had motivated him to throw himself in harm's way, and rescue her from the flames.

She opened her mouth to respond and realized Morgana had dropped her hand, having fallen back to sleep. Hunith smiled sadly down at her, brushing the backs of her fingers across her cheek.

She couldn't know what her son believed, but she believed Morgana was nothing but a lonely and scared girl who'd been used as a pawn all her life. She deserved a second chance, and should she survive Hunith would give her one.

She stood and refreshed her cloth one more time, then grabbed a shawl to wrap around her shoulders to ward off a sudden chill. She prayed, to any of the Gods that would listen, to keep her son safe on his journey, and to keep Morgana alive so she may see the good in life she had yet to truly experience.

\--

_1 1/2 days since Merlin's departure_  
 _3 days since Morgana's execution_

**Mid-afternoon**

Arthur rode from Camelot's gates, turning swiftly off the trail and into the trees to the left of the wall. He made his way to the meadow where he'd left two of his finest horses for Morgana and Merlin, to aid in their escape.

It had been one of his more rebellious acts under Uther's reign, and he'd had great hopes his plan would come to fruition. Now he wasn't quite sure what to hope for.

A part of him hoped they were gone, that they'd succeeded in their escape and taken off days ago. Another hoped they'd stayed, and waited for him in the shadows. Eager to explain what he'd seen.

Storm snorted irritably beneath him, stopping abruptly, ears pricked. The meadow was just ahead, and there was nothing. No horses, and neither his sister nor his friend.

Arthur ran a gloved hand through his hair, allowing a small smile at the absence of his crown. His coronation had taken place only the day before. He had barely a moment to himself any longer, though it wasn't as horrid as he'd expected.

Much of his time thus far had been spent with Guinevere. She seemed to be the only one who truly understood his feeling, not only regarding Merlin and Morgana but everything. Losing his father, the new responsibilities of being a King, the loneliness he felt. The betrayal and paranoia that plagued him, and how it suddenly seemed impossible to trust anyone.

She felt the same, though to a lesser degree. She seemed to understand Merlin's motives, even sympathized with him. Their differing opinions caused numerous arguments between them, but he found he enjoyed there spats.

Their relationship before had been nothing like this; it was sweet and gentle, tentative. New love at its most beautiful. But he didn't miss the way it had been. Now she challenged him, advised him, allowed him to speak his true feelings to her.

It had been only three days but he was more in love with her than he had been before, though he had not thought it possible. She was the same Guinevere she had always been, only now she was more... free.

Surprise had come over him when he realized the same oppressiveness of his father that had lingered above him and Morgana, had lingered above others, Guinevere included. Without the former King to worry over, she seemed stronger, brave, yet still the same sweet person she had always been.

Storm nickered. A branch snapped nearby, his fingers coming to clench around the reins, his other hand reaching for his sword. "Who goes there?" he called.

He was not one to be intimidated easily. Arthur cursed himself, could he not have a single day of solitude without his life being threatened? Storm nickered again, chomping excitedly at the bit.

"I'm unarmed!"

"Come out slowly." he called, unsheathing his sword. He held it clenched in his fist at his side, ready and able. He couldn't bring himself to trust this man at his word.

He was prepared for anything, a sorcerer ready to shoot him down with magic, a bandit pretending to be a poor beggar while his friends surrounded him. He was not, however, prepared to see Merlin ride into the meadow. Looking weary atop his second favorite horse, Striker.

"Stay where you are." he only barely relaxed his grip on the sword. Merlin had the audacity to roll his eyes, but obeyed, pulling Striker to a stop and raising his hand.

"I'm sorry Arthur."

"What for? Lying to me? I suppose I should be used it by now, everyone does."

Merlin shook his head, climbing down from his horse. "Arthur, I understand-"

"I don't think you do. I trusted you, like an idiot. You were supposed to be my friend. One of the very few people I trust in my life. And all along you've been lying to me, pretending to be something you're not."

"Arthur-"

"I did not give you permission to speak. You are on Camelot soil, and I am your King. Now tell me, shall I have you hanged for treason against the crown? Or are you prepared to convince me of your proclaimed innocence?"

Merlin sighed, his gaze lowered with shame. "I know I was wrong. I should never have kept my powers a secret from you for so long, and I'm sorry. But I don't have the time to explain myself."

Arthur balked, eyes narrowed and red. His vision blurred with anger. He slid from Storm's back, pointing his sword out in front of him. Merlin gulped.

"You have the audacity to lie to me for as long as I've known you, to make me look a fool before my kingdom. And now you deny me the explanation I rightly deserve? I am your King. I. Demand. Answers."

Merlin held his ground and clenched his jaw. "Morgana is ill."

His gaze lightened some, the fog of fury seeming to lift from his eyes. But his fingers stayed clenched around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white. "Explain."

"The stress of her confinement in the dungeons, the journey to Ealdor, her wounds, it left her weak. She caught fever just before we reached Ealdor. My mother is doing the best she can, but without treatment," he swallowed hard. "I don't know how long she'll last."

He pleaded with Arthur to listen, to see sense. Morgana was his sister, he had to understand. Arthur sneered at him, sheathing his sword and whipping around. He strode toward his horse. "Follow me to Gauis, keep your head covered." he spat.

Merlin nodded, barely managing to mount his horse as Arthur rode off. He tugged the hood of his cloak far over his head, hiding his face in the depths of the dark fabric.

\--

Arthur was silent as he led Merlin through the halls towards Gauis' chambers. The castle was mostly empty as it was already midday, and most everyone was preparing for dinner. Two guards were posted at the entrance to each hall, but that was as far his security detail spanned.

Nothing said in the hall would be overheard, it was now or never. He slowed, moving to allow Merlin to walk at his side.

"Why would you decide to learn magic in Camelot, how could you have been so stupid?" the question had been burning inside him since the beginning.

Merlin sighed. "I didn't _decide_ to learn magic. Here or anywhere else. I was born with it."

Arthur stopped, and it took Merlin a few steps before he noticed. He turned, walking back towards him. "Don't lie to me. No one is born with magic. You learn."

"I wouldn't lie." Arthur tilted his brow, and he shook his head. "Not anymore. I was born with magic, as was Morgana. It's in our blood. I was gravitating candle sticks before I could walk."

"How can I believe you?"

"What reason do I have to lie any longer? You know of my magic now, what difference would it make to you _how_ I came by it?"

"My father..." he couldn't continue. He should have known better by now than to take anything his father had told him with a grain of salt. He had lied about so much, why not this? "I never realized."

"You weren't told. It's not your fault Arthur. None of it is."

He looked up at Merlin, his expression of sincerity. "How can I ever trust you again? You used magic behind my back, you kept innumerable secrets from me. How do I know you won't betray me?"

"I suppose you don't. Time is my only way to prove it to you."

Arthur nodded, then a thought occurred to him. "What did you mean about Morgana? When you said it's in your blood."

"Morgana was born with magic as I was. It started with her dreams. They're visions of the future. Prophetic."

"That day she came running down the stairs in her nightgown, yelling about the questing beast. She really saw me die?"

Merlin smiled, somewhat sadly. "She tried to warn you. I only suspected her magic then, I thought I could protect you myself. I wasn't careful enough though."

He turned away, continuing down the hall. Arthur followed. Gauis' door was open and he stood by his bookshelf, running his finger down the spine of an amazingly large tome.

"Gauis." he turned, his prepared smile fading at the hooded figure before him.

"My King. Who is your guest?

Merlin lowered his hood, smiling. "Hello Gauis."

"Merlin!" he rushed forward, hugging his young ward for a moment. Then he pulled back, thwacking him across the back of his head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot. You are lucky Arthur seems to have forgiven you. If Uther," he trailed off, seeming to remember the King's presence. "I apologize,"

"No apologies necessary Gauis." he waved his hand, and it was all but forgotten.

Merlin shook his head, unapologetic. "I had to Gauis. I couldn't let her die."

"I understand. I didn't think you would. I saw it in your eyes that night, when you promised to keep yourself out of danger."

Merlin shrugged sheepishly, "I've never been spectacularly good at keeping my promises."

Gauis smiled. Merlin brushed past him, retrieving the spell book from under his bed. "I should be going. I have to return as quick as possible."

Gauis seemed to understand without explanation, hugging him once more. He handed him a light burlap sack. "Some food. For the journey."

"I'll be coming as well." Arthur's tone left no room for disagreement.

"But my King, who will watch over Camelot in your stead?"

"He's right Arthur. You have to stay, you're needed here."

"This is not a discussion. Morgana is my sister, and I have to see this through. I have failed her one too many times in the past, not again." he placed a hand on Gauis' shoulder. "You are to tell no one where I've gone. If anyone asks, I am in my chambers conduction urgent business and am not to be disturbed under any circumstances."

"Yes your majesty."

"I'll be coming as well." The three turned abruptly. Guinevere stood tall in the doorway, shoulders back and arms crossed over her chest.

"Guine-"

She raised a hand, dismissing Arthur's attempts to dissuade her before they could begin. "Morgana is my friend, and if you're gone there is nothing keeping me here. I have no duties to attend to, and I believe I deserve a... vacation. If you will." she smiled. "Besides, I think I deserve some answers."

Merlin looked away sheepishly, scratching at his chin. She nodded once. "I will meet you at the gates. Have a horse readied for me. I must change." she turned and walked from the room, her skirts swirling around her ankles.

\--

Night had fallen, and a chill had descended over the small group. Their horses walked, winded from the first few hours of unending running.

Arthur watched Merlin consistently, as if he thought magic would burst from his very skin at any moment. Merlin, in turn, couldn't seem to keep from staring at Guinevere, who avoided looking at either one of them.

"You weren't going to tell me you'd seen Merlin at all, were you?" she'd accused Arthur at the beginning of their journey, angrily twisting her fingers around her reins.

He'd only shaken his head, confirming her thoughts. It had been silent ever since, covering them like a blanket draped over their backs.

Gwen cleared her throat and Merlin jumped. "I'm sorry!" he shouted.

She looked up in surprise, but smiled. Then laughed. "Thank you."

"What?"

"I only wanted an apology. I think I deserved one."

Merlin nodded, pushing to catch up with Arthur, who rode ahead of them. They were only a short while from Ealdor, and daybreak as well. Arthur was agitated, that much was obvious, and he never once slowed.

Guilt was eating at him, at feeling so helpless and unable to save Morgana from her execution. If she died, her blood would be on his hands.

He stewed over never knowing she was his sister, his own flesh and blood. His- their father had lied. Denied him the truth he had always deserved to know. He had spent so long defending his father's actions to her, explaining the reasoning behind the executions of people with magic, when he had unknowingly condemned her to the same act.

She held magic in her veins, in her very blood, without any decision on her part. Born with it, she suffered in silence. And all along he had called the people who used it evil, and she had taken it for herself.

He only wondered now how he couldn't have seen it. She had told him of her dreams when they were children, the nightmares that would send her running to his chambers late at night. They'd huddled under the blankets and she would tell him of what she'd seen, the deaths and tragedies that would one day take place.

He had believed her then. But magic had never once come to his mind. And as they'd grown older, he found himself visited less frequently in the night. He had thought the dreams had stopped, but he realized now she had stopped coming to him.

He should have noticed when she began to distance herself from him, hiding in her chambers more often than not, quiet during banquets, no longer sparring with him in the yard. It wasn't like her, and he had never even seen it. How could he have been so blind, so uncaring, so involved in his own feelings?

"Arthur." he jumped, his horse skittering to the side. "We're here." Merlin pointed ahead. Hadn't they been further away a moment ago?

Merlin and Gwen rode ahead of him, but he stopped. He was suddenly gripped by a thought he was unable to shake. What if she blamed him for being unable to stop the execution?

"Arthur!" Gwen called, twisting around to see him. He rode up beside her and they jumped down, leaving the horses beside the shack Merlin had housed Morgana's.

Merlin put his finger to his lips, and knocked at the door. There was the sound of a lock being lifted, and the door swung open. Hunith stood before them, cheeks flushed and eyes red with tears to come.

"Thank goodness you're here. She's gotten worse." she stepped aside and ushered them in.

Morgana lay on her cot, moaning. Her hands clutched at her stomach, her head turning from side to side. What had once been a light sheen of sweat now drenched her skin, dampening the fabric of the nightgown Hunith had dressed her in. Her eyes were clenched shut in pain.

"What happened?" Merlin went to his knees at her side, taking her hands in his.

"Her fever's gotten worse. If you don't do something now, she'll be gone before daybreak."

"It's alright Morgana, I can heal you." he whispered, pulling the spell book from his satchel. Arthur and Gwen stood by the door, their hands finding one another.

"What can I do?" Hunith came beside him, clutching anxiously at his shoulder.

"Hold the book up so I can read it."

She did as she was asked, and he took a moment to find the page. He cleared his throat and leaned over Morgana, one hand on either side of his face. His thumbs caressed her temples, and his eyes turned from blue to gold.

Gwen became transfixed as her murmured words in a foreign tongue, his voice oddly powerful and commanding. Morgana's back bowed off the bed and she cried out, her hands grabbing his wrists as what seemed like a visible wave of blue air rushed over her.

As abruptly as it began, it ended, and she fell back onto the bed. Her breath left in a gentle whoosh from between her lips, her chest rising and falling steadily. The color returned to her face, and her hands dropped to her sides.

"It worked." Merlin whispered, almost as if he hadn't expected it to. His hands trailed through her hair as he pulled away. "I'm, I'm going to put the horses away." he stood and stumbled from the room.

He vanished through the door and Hunith watched him go. She was surprised he hadn't already realized his feelings for the girl.

Gwen watched as Arthur took his spot beside Morgana, shakily taking her hand in his. She decided it would be best to attend to her other friend, and leave brother and sister for a moment. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Merlin stood beside his horse, methodically removing his saddle. "Merlin." she spoke quietly. He looked up, and she was unsurprised to see his eyes were red.

"I thought I wouldn't be able to save her. Just for a second. But, the fear when I thought it. It was like nothing I've ever felt. I think that's what really scares me. That I could care that much." he blurted.

She smiled softly, skirting around the horse to stand at his side. "Merlin, it's alright."

"No. It's not. I did this. Don't you see? If I had just told her the truth, If I had been honest that night she came to me, none of this would have happened. Morgause wouldn't have had such a pull on her, she wouldn't have had the chance to do what she did, and I wouldn't have had to-" he broke off, looking down at his feet.

"Maybe things would be different. You're right. But you can't think about that. Right now she is alive, because of you. She is with her brother, and soon she'll return home and everything will be back to how it's supposed to be. Everything will be alright." she pulled him to her, wrapping him in her arms.

He embraced her completely, breathing in deeply. Everything was going to be alright. It had to be.

\--

Arthur sat beside Morgana's bed, her hand in his, his head resting on the cot. She was sleeping quite deeply, or so Hunith had assured him. She seemed to sense he wasn't quite ready to talk. And yet, a part of him wished she was awake.

He wanted so badly to explain himself to her, to apologize for being so foolish and never managing to connect the dots between her magic and the dreams she'd had. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for never being there for her as a brother should be for his sister.

He wanted to tell her he had never meant to hurt her, and that he saw now how horridly stupid he had been for never standing up to his father as he should have all along. She was wrong when she'd told him he was a better man than his father, all that time ago.

If he was, he would've done something. Wouldn't he? Arthur closed his eyes, exhaustion overcoming him. He distantly felt a blanket settle over his shoulders but he was too far gone to discern between reality and dreams that had taken over, plaguing his mind with visions of two familiar children dancing in a field.

How could he have drifted so far from himself?

Who had he become?


	9. when you're standing in the shadows

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

_Darkness surrounded her, consumed her. There was nothing to indicate she even lived, aside from the feel of her heartbeat thundering beneath her palm and the sound of her own ragged breathing in her ears._

_The reeking smell of dirt and piss made her want to empty her stomach, but there was nothing to purge, and it would only add to her torture._

_Where was she? Who was she? She couldn't remember a thing about herself or why she was where she was. The darkness had swallowed her whole, along with any sense of identity._

_She wept silently in the dark and cold dwelling, pleading and praying with any God that existed to save her from such eternal and inescapable despair._

_"Help me." she whimpered, her voice had stopped working properly ages ago. Her screams had proved fruitless, what was the point? No one could hear her. No one._

Morgana woke with a jolt, her hand clutching at the blanket. She breathed in deeply, her eyes adjusting to the dim light the flickering fire allowed.

There was no darkness, no swallowing pit of black. She was here, but where was here exactly?

She sat up slowly, gingerly, aware of a deep throb in the back of her head. Fingers tightened around her other hand, and she looked down. Arthur. He clutched at her like a baby would it's mother, his head resting on the edge of her cot, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

A fond smile stretched across her cracked lips and she pulled her hand from his, carefully testing her strength as she swung her legs over the cot. Across the room Gwen and a vaguely familiar woman lay sleeping by the hearth, and sitting beside them in a chair sat Merlin.

She wasn't able to tell if he was awake or not but she stood regardless. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she lent up against the wall, one hand to her head.

"What are you doing?" Merlin took a step towards her, gazing at her in concern. She held up her hand, asking him without a word to stop.

She made her way to the door and stepped outside, her feet chilled as she walked out along a small stone path bordered by blooming flora. The woods were just ahead of her, and she stared out into the never ending night. The sun would soon rise, and it made her sigh. She wasn't ready to face the day.

A touch on her shoulder made her skin jump, but she stayed as she was as a shawl was draped over her shoulders. She turned, and Merlin smiled. She nodded in thanks, pulling the soft material tighter around her.

Then it was quiet, and a heavy silence took place between them. She felt herself fill with anger, anger so hot and quick it made her want to scream. She hadn't felt such a way since before Morgause's death, when it had only been felt towards Arthur, Uther, and Gauis. Now it directed itself solely at Merlin.

This horrid man, who'd kept a secret that had the power to destroy her. He hadn't told her of his magic, and he'd allowed her to go on in life believing she was going insane. The visions she had suffered, the fires she had started, unexplained. All she had wanted, all she had _needed_ was for someone, Merlin, to acknowledge it. To tell her she wasn't crazy, to understand the fear that threatened to consume her day and night.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She laughed bitterly. "Well enough, I suppose, for someone who's made it through their own execution."

She could hear how cold she sounded, how empty her voice was, but she couldn't make herself feel sorry for it. She'd changed, and as much as she would like nothing more than to go back and be the sweet carefree girl she once was, it was an impossibility.

There's a darkness inside her, and it began when Morgause placed her under her spell and had only grown since then. She would never be the Lady Morgana again. She would be Morgana Pendragon, bastard, witch, usurper, murderer.

And he was to blame.

"You can stop. I remember everything."

Merlin's eyes grew big. She sounded so hateful. She sounded like the Morgana who'd been so determined to kill her own father and brother, and steal and crown she hadn't earned. Morgause had created her, and Morgause was dead.

He had thought that meant the Morgana she'd made was gone as well, but the ice creeping into her tone spoke volumes. He rebuked his thoughts as quickly as they strayed into his head, she was different now. The Morgana who'd returned to Camelot was changed. Born anew.

She had begged for his forgiveness, _his_ , while bound to the stake. She had thanked him for believing in her truth even as the flames came for her.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.

She shook her head. "For what?" she asked. "For poisoning me? I've already told you I understood, so that can't be it. Is it for hiding the truth from me? For listening as I confided my worst fears in you, and saying nothing? When all the while you had the power to ease my fears, to let me know I wasn't alone, wasn't..." she trailed off, her voice quieting. Her eyes were red with tears not yet shed.

"I thought you were my friend."

"I'm so sorry," he reached for her, but she shied away. "I will be sorry for what I have done to you for the rest of my life. I didn't think I had a choice. Gauis advised me to leave you be, that you would be in more danger if you knew the truth. I thought-" he swiped at his face with his shaking hands.

What had he thought? Why had he listened to Gauis? If he had only told her the truth, she never would have felt Morgause was the only person she had to turn to. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. If only.

"You thought what?" she narrowed her gaze. "That I would have given Uther your name to save myself? Do you really think so little of me?"

"Of course not!" he objected.

"Then why?" she cried. "Why wasn't I good enough? What was it I did to make me seem so untrustworthy? I was scared and alone, all I wanted was for you to tell me I wasn't!"

"I was scared!" his fingers grasped at her shoulders.

"And don't you think I was scared?"

His head dropped, his chin to his chest. He nodded. "I know you were. Nothing I say will every be able to convey how sorry I am. I am, so sorry. Morgana." he looked up, his hands moving to cup her face.

His thumbs stroked her skin, and her breath caught in her chest at his touch. His face came nearer, and her eyes fluttered shut. With a heavy sigh he touched his forehead to hers, "I'm sorry." he whispered.

She let out her breath. "I know."

"Morgana?" Merlin's hands dropped to his sides, and she opened her eyes. Arthur stood by the door, his tone concerned. She smiled.

"Arthur." His eyes lit as Merlin nervously edged away, walking towards the shed. Arthur rushed towards her. She let out a little gasp as he enveloped her in his arms, and he pulled away quickly.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he looked over her guiltily.

"No, you just surprised me."

"Oh." he blushed and she smiled, reaching to brush some gold hair from his eyes.

"Hi."

He grinned, squeezing her into another embrace. "Hi."

She held him close, but couldn't help the glance she sent over his shoulder. She watched Merlin's retreating form until he disappeared into the shed.

"I'm so glad you're okay." he mumbled. She held him tighter, berating herself for not giving him her undivided attention. He had obviously done everything he could to halt her execution, and he had been so worried for her he'd slept at her side through the night. "I was so worried."

She smiled, pulling back so she could smirk up at him. "Arthur, I didn't know you cared."

He huffed and rolled his eyes, "Very funny."

"I missed you." she said, holding him tight once more. All this time she had spent distancing herself from him as Morgause molded her into the dark figure she'd required. It was astonishing now to realize just how lonely she'd been, how much she had missed the presence of him she had never been without.

She could clearly recall the day she'd arrived in Camelot as a small child, donned in mourning black. Dreading the future, she'd rode into the courtyard on her pony with tears in her eyes. Uther had left her alone with the Prince only moments after her arrival. All lanky limbs and too-long blonde hair, he'd asked if she would like to play swords with him.

She had smiled for the first time since her father's death. He'd made her smile ever since, and only now could she truly appreciate how much she had missed him.

"I missed you too." he returned. Moving to stand at his side she took his arm and steered them towards the woods, taking slow steps toward it.

"Tell me. How long has it been?" the last thing she remembered was seeing Merlin's eyes burn gold, and then nothing. She could only guess how long it had been since.

"It's been three days."

"I've been asleep for three days?"

"More like four." he gestured to the light in the distance.

"I see." she glanced up at him, and was taken aback by the frown on his face and the tightness in his clenched jaw. "What is it?"

"Father is dead."

She stopped, her breath momentarily caught. "I see."

For a moment she did not speak, thinking of the mad who had had her so terrified for so long. But she could remember a time when it had not been so, when they were young and he had taken time from his kingly duties to truly act a father's role.

He had been so kind once, and playful. It hurt to think how he had changed, how cold and power hungry time had turned him. But she could not help feeling more relieved than anything. It was hard to think she had a lost a father, for now and always she would see Gorlois as her true father. No matter of blood.

"I'm so sorry Arthur."

"Don't be." he shook his head solemnly. "I feel as if he's been dead to me for some time. Magic blinded him, to you, to me. I can't be sad a tyrant such as he has met his death. He lied about so much, my mother, you. He nearly killed you. How can I miss him?"

"Don't. Arthur, it's me. You don't have to pretend with me. I am your sister, not just in blood but bond as well. I know you. It's alright to mourn him."

He swallowed, turning to grace her with a brave smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smirked sweetly. "You'd be utterly lost."

He rolled his eyes, knocking his shoulder playfully with hers. "You shall address me as 'Your Majesty'." he said, mockingly stern.

She laughed, "If you ever think I will call you that, you are simply dreaming."

He pouted. "I suppose I will spend the rest of my days hoping to earn your respect."

She smiled at him, her fingers tightening around his arm. "You already have it."

He looked down at her, his playful expression faded. "Truly?"

"Truly. How could you not? You are my brother, you are brave, you stand by what is right. You are King Arthur of Camelot. Never has there been a better ruler." she said.

He shook his head. "I don't deserve your respect. I was not there for you, not when you needed me most. I was too absorbed in myself. Blind to problems that were not my own." he objected.

"No one is perfect. I have forgiven you, as you should forgive yourself. If you can see my past my transgressions, you should be able to see past your own."

"When did you grow so wise?"

"I always have been." she turned them towards the house. "You're just now noticing."

He chuckled and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

\--

Morgana and Gwen sat side by side at the hearth, hands held tight as Merlin laid a newly split bundle of wood beside it.

"Thank you sweetheart." he glanced at his mother and smiled with a nod.

Arthur sat on Morgana's cot with a bowl of soup, watching the girls with a small grin. It was strange seeing Arthur like this, so happy and free of burden.

"Merlin?" his mother gently rubbed his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

At the realization that he'd been staring he blushed, nodding sheepishly. "Yes. Sorry." She smiled knowingly and patted his head before turning away, busying herself with cleaning up by the mantle.

It was almost midday, and he was still flushed with emotion from his talk with Morgana. He had nearly kissed her, and he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting towards thoughts he was better left not entertaining. He thought of what could have happened had Arthur not come out. Would she have pushed him away? Pulled him closer?

How could he even think such things? She may no longer be a Lady of Camelot, but she was the King's sister. She was much too far above him in station to ever consider being a proper romantic interest.

He cleared his throat, forcing his wandering mind to the present and tuning in to the conversation at hand.

"How soon will you be ready to travel?" Arthur asked between slurps of soup. Morgana and Gwen were turned in their seats to face him, and Morgana cocked her head.

"Travel?"

"Back to Camelot."

She looked down to her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid I'm not going back."

The silence was deafening, and he looked nervously from one person to another. Guinevere shook her head, confused. "What? Why not?"

"Do you really think I'll be welcomed back with open arms after all that I've done?"

"That wasn't you." Arthur said.

"That isn't the point. I can't return, and I'm not sure I much want to. I find the bad memories seem to outweigh the good now."

"Well, where will you stay?" Gwen asked.

Her fingers twisted and knotted around the fabric of her borrowed dress, and she looked nervously to Hunith. "I was hoping I might earn my keep here. I don't have much experience with hard labor, but I'm certain I could learn quickly."

Hunith simply smiled at her nervousness, taking her chin gently in her head so their eyes would meet. "I would be more than happy to have you sweetling."

Morgana smiled, then looked to Arthur with a frown. "I suppose that settles it."

He nodded, placing his bowl to the side. He stood and left the room. Morgana raked her fingers through her hair as Gwen politely excused herself to follow him. Merlin watched through the window as she caught up to Arthur, touching his arm gently. He turned into her and they embraced, his head in the slope of her neck.

He turned away, not wishing to intrude on their moment. Morgana had curled up in her chair, turned back to the fire. "Do you believe I'm doing the right thing?" she asked.

At first he'd thought she'd spoken to him, but he saw her gazing at his mother. "I think you're doing what is best for you, and I don't believe that's something you've done very often."

Morgana nodded, though she didn't seem freed of her guilt. "Thank you." she stared into the fire, her eyes reflecting the flames.

Merlin wondered what their journey home would look like, heading away from her rather than toward. They had only just gotten her back, only to have to leave her behind. Perhaps knowing she was nearby would assuage their grief.

But even as he thought it, he knew his attempts to assure himself would never work. He would miss her more than he could bear. Somehow, Morgana had burrowed herself under his skin again. And he had a feeling it was going to be impossible to get her out.


	10. and this i promise

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

Merlin blinked owlishly as Arthur cleared his throat, peering down at his half-eaten bowl of soup. "So, this means I can come back?"

Arthur nodded, picking lazily at his own meal. "Yes, and as soon as it's possible, the laws will be changed. I can't promise things will be as they were before the purge, things will be different. More controlled, monitored."

Merlin nodded all too eagerly, only able to see the bright side of things. He was going to return to Camelot, to Gaius, to his home. Magic would no longer be outlawed, and no longer would he have to hide who and what he truly was. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Of course. Arthur, this is amazing. I don't know what to say."

"Yes, well, you don't have to say anything." he murmured, blushing at Merlin's praise.

\--

"What do you think they're talking about?" Gwen murmured, absently brushing her horse's flank. Arthur and Merlin had disappeared into the house nearly an hour ago, to discuss 'important matters'.

Morgana shrugged, running a comb through her mare's tail. "I don't know." she said, somewhat distractedly.

Her tone of voice must have puzzled Gwen, who came to her side and touched her arm. "Are you alright?" She flinched away, wincing as a hurt look flashed over her friend's face.

She attempted a smile. "I'm fine. Thank you." Morgana felt badly for the way she was acting, but the remnants of her near death experience lingered. She felt ready to crawl out of her skin, and as the days passed her nervousness increased. They would be leaving soon, and sh had yet to experience what life truly was without Arthur by her side. Or Gwen for that matter. She was terrified of facing her ever approaching newly-realized reality.

Guinevere, though not convinced, nodded. She turned her attention back to the house. "Should I go check on them perhaps?" Yet just as she stepped towards it the door opened and Arthur stepped outside, playfully bumping his shoulder against Merlin's.

Relieved, she started towards them, taking Arthur's hand. Morgana watched as he looked down on her affectionately, and the two laughed at something Merlin said. She thought, with some sadness, that this was the happiest she could remember seeing the three of them.

She smiled as Merlin came towards her, grinning. "Morgana."

"Merlin. How was your talk with Arthur?"

"Wonderful, actually. He says I'm welcome to return to Camelot, he's even going to lift the ban soon."

Caught off guard, she allowed herself to be pulled into a hug, her arms draped loosely around his shoulders. He pulled back abruptly, eyes wide. "Sorry, I think the fresh air is getting to me."

She laughed, brushing a stray hair from her braid away. "It's alright."

There was a pregnant pause and she brushed a hand over the skirt of the gown Hunith had lent her, fidgeting. "Merlin, I wanted to thank you."

He seemed surprised.

"You saved me from the pyre, exposed yourself. I know Arthur has forgiven you, but it was a great risk. You didn't have to do such a thing for me."

"Yes. I did." his expression was firm. He took her hand, squeezing her fingers tight. "I would do it again."

"Truly?"

"Truly. You mean, you mean a lot to me Morgana. I regret hurting you more than anything. I wish there was something I could do to show you how sorry I really am." He looked down, ashamed.

For a moment she allowed the grudges and resentment to slip from her mind and touched his chin with her finger, tilting his head to look into her eyes. "Time." she murmured. "Time makes all the difference."

\--

Later that day Morgana stood solemnly beside Hunith as the trio prepared their horses for the journey back to Camelot. Tension ran among them, thick and nearly tangible. Merlin's gaze continually flickered to and from Morgana, watching as she clasped her hands at her waist and watched Arthur and Gwen beside him.

He was surprised, and somewhat puzzled that she hadn't come to bid him her goodbyes yet. Their moment earlier by the horses had seemed so significant, and now she was utterly aloof. He wanted to speak with her, to demand of her why she was acting so strangely.

He glanced at Arthur who was preoccupied speaking with Guinevere, oblivious to his inner conflict. His mother caught his eye and tipped her chin at Morgana, nodding encouragingly.

Morgana stared into the woods as he walked towards her, biting her lip between her teeth. He cleared his throat and she jumped, eyes wide as she looked up at him. "Merlin?"

"Morgana. Can we talk?" he gestured to the house. Her brows furrowed but she nodded, stepping uncertainly from Hunith's side.

His home was quiet, the only sound coming from the snap of the fire. She turned, hands clenching around her skirts. "Is something wrong?"

He sighed. "I just wanted to say my goodbyes."

Her lips quirked, a ghost of a smile. "I see. And we couldn't have said our farewells outside? Among everyone?"

"No." he stepped closer, cheeks flushed. Even with his head bowed, chin near to his chest, he stood taller than her, looking down on her head of dark curls. She looked up, her blue green eyes wide as his hands rose to touch her face.

"The day I arrived in Camelot, I walked in on you." she frowned. "You thought I was Gwen, and I let you because while you jabbered on about Arthur and your dress I couldn't stop thinking about how you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." she blushed.

Morgana had been told her whole life how beautiful she was, how her hair gleamed, her eyes shone, and her skin looked like fresh cream. They were niceties, things said to flatter her that she expected to hear. But in that moment, looking into Merlin's eyes, she believed he meant it more than anyone ever had before.

His thumbs stroked her cheeks and she tilted her head, his lips coming down upon hers. Tentative, unsure of himself, he pulled back, eyes fluttering. She smiled up from beneath her lashes, her hands reaching to bring his face close. "One day, I will forgive you."

His arms dropped to encircle her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her lips were soft and supple as they moved against his, greedily, hungrily. She'd never wanted someone so desperately as she wanted him, her body hummed with the magic she held beneath her skin, calling out to his.

\--

She emerged from the house first, lips swollen, face flushed. She scurried to Hunith's side, thankful to see Arthur was still distracted by Gwen. Merlin hurried to his mount, concealing his smile with a poorly attempted frown.

He checked the stirrups and swung into the saddle, clearing his throat to gain the attention of his companions. Arthur snapped to attention, handing his reins off to Gwen. He walked to Hunith and his sister. Morgana frowned, they'd already said their goodbyes. He pulled her into a tight, unexpected embrace. "I will see you soon sister, I swear it." he pulled back with a smile. "And one day, I will see you in the halls of Camelot once more."

His voice was firm, filled with conviction. She couldn't help but believe. She nodded and hugged him once more, releasing him with a teary smile. Hunith bit her lip beside her, her fingers tentatively reaching for her.

She looked over, startled, to see the sorrow in Hunith's eyes as she held out a shaking hand. Hesitantly, Morgana took it. Hunith squeezed it fiercely, smiling down at her new ward.

They looked back as the group of three disappeared into the tree line, the drumming of their horses hooves fading away. For a moment Morgana stood watching the spot where she had last seen them, her fingers tenderly brushing her bruised lips.


	11. who will care for the fallen?

_**Third Peron's Point of View** _

In the woods that night there was not a sound save the pop and crackle of fire, the three travelers sticking close for warmth. Guinevere was moments from sleep beneath her furs, gazing blankly into the flames. Arthur watched her through the flames, tugging irritably at his tunic. His brow furrowed in thought as he gazed at her, wondering if she felt just as uncomfortable as he.

They were a person short, and it was felt throughout the group, like an aching wound. Morgana's absence nagged at Arthur, and for a reason he wasn't quite able to identify it made him nervous. Not to mention surprisingly unsure of himself.

Merlin sat close by, all too aware of Arthur's fidgeting. Unlike him, Merlin was only slightly plagued by unease, an emotion that was overwhelmed by the dizzying feeling of excitement and happiness.

He'd kissed her, placed his lips upon hers, and it had become nearly the most wonderful moment of his life. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the mere thought of their stolen moments together, hidden in the far corners of his mother's home.

His upset would have been greater if he wasn't so sure he would see her again. He knew, deep inside, that he would be seeing her soon, and that feeling alone stifled any nerves he'd previously felt.

His joy at their moment was only overshadowed by his excitement at returning to Camelot, and seeing Gaius once again. Arthur had explained as they'd begun their journey that he would be smuggled into the castle walls under the guise of a prisoner, his head cloaked to disguise him. He would be allowed to reside in his old rooms with Gauis - discreetly - as to give Arthur some time to prepare the coming changes.

Everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed would soon prove worth it. It would never make up for what he had done to Morgana, but it was a start to the world she deserved to live in.

\--

Morgana was certainly not used to physical labor, as it had never been a part of her upbringing with either her father or Uther. But she found she almost enjoyed the daily repetition of working Hunith's small plot of land. Hunith was patient with her, diligently teaching her everything necessary to provide for oneself. She found that not only included cooking and cleaning, but sewing, gardening, and so much more that it made her dizzy trying to remember it all.

"Morgana?" she looked up, sweeping her braid over her shoulder. Hunith stood in the doorway to her ivy-covered house, waving a letter above her head. Morgana smiled, lifting the skirts to her borrowed dress as she climbed to her feet. She brushed dirt from the knees of the mossy green cotton, hurrying across the path towards her parental figure.

Hunith had been pleasant enough on her one former trip to Ealdor, though obviously distracted by the circumstances of the time, so their interaction had been minimal. This time was different, and Hunith had made it clear that she valued her help and was happy to house her for as long as she needed.

"Who's it from?" she asked curiously, accepting the letter with dirt stained fingers.

"I can't say, I didn't open it." Hunith turned and walked back inside, poking at the beginnings of a fire in the hearth. Morgana shut the door behind her, taking a seat on the cot against the wall.

With her thumbnail she broke the plain wax seal and unfolded the thick creamy paper, her eyes narrowed at the fluid black handwriting.

_Morgana,_   
_Things in Camelot are progressing quickly. Arthur says the ban will be lifted in only a matter of days, and though you initially protested I know in my heart you will come home soon. Though I hide in my chambers with Gauis as my reluctant chaperon I find myself unable to sit still. The changes to come keep me as excited as ever. I remember you once told me you hoped people could one day see magic as a force for good. Perhaps that day is no longer so far from fruition. I miss you, and I wonder how it is I've managed to go so long without seeing you. That last moment we spent together runs through my mind endlessly, and I have to ask if it plagues you as it does me. I'll write again soon. Send my mother my love._   
_Merlin_

Morgana blushed as she re-folded her letter, "Who was it then?"

She jumped, hoping her cheeks weren't as alarmingly red as she imagined they were. "Oh, it was Merlin."

"Oh?" Hunith turned away, polite enough to hide her knowing smile. "What did he have to say?"

"He sends you his love. And he says Arthur's laws will be in effect any day now." she murmured, clearing her throat in an effort to regain her bearings.

"Isn't that wonderful news?" Morgana smiled tightly.

The pain she felt at not being able to participate in such wonder was overshadowed some by the happiness she felt for her kind. No longer would they be forced to hide, scared for their very lives. They would have the freedom to walk the streets without fear for being themselves.

A laugh burst from her lips, and for reasons she couldn't quite understand, quickly turned to a cry. Hunith came to sit beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. She gasped despairingly as she attempted to get her voice back, only to be dropped in the memory of being held in someones arms so very much like this.

Morgana stood and ran.

\--

"Your Grace." Arthur lifted his gaze from the documents on his desk.

"Sir Leon."

"There have been repeated sightings of a druid clan lingering near the border. Shall I dispatch a group of knights?"

Arthur leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming the edge of his desk. "No. I will go. Alone." He stood, holding up a hand as his friend began to protest.

"But-"

"The druids are a peaceful people. They would not attempt to attack me, and they would be much too fearful of the repercussions should they kill their King." he laughed at the bewildered expression on Leon's face, clapping him soundly on the shoulder. "Trust me."

Leon bowed his head, "Always."

\--

Merlin was bored beyond belief. He sat cross legged on his cot, fingers picking at a loose thread from his tunic. For more than two weeks he'd been stranded in his room with not a thing to do, trying in vain to distract himself by cleaning everything in sight.

Any time he attempted to sneak away Gauis caught him and he'd been quickly chastised. Merlin sighed, leaning against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably, if he hadn't been taking daily walks around the perimeter of his room he'd think bed sores were developing.

A knock came at the door and he sat up straight, ready to bolt under the bed at a moment's notice. "Gauis?" Arthur's voice came through the door. "Merlin?"

Relieved, Merlin slipped from the room into Gaius'. "Thank God, I thought I was about to die of boredom." Arthur nodded, but his distraction was plain to see. "What is it?"

"I've been informed there are druids nearby. I think this is a good opportunity to extend to them a peace-offering, in hopes they'll feel more comfortable once the ban is lifted." Merlin smiled, Arthur was sounding more and more like the King he'd always imagined he would become.

"That's amazing Arthur! When do you leave to meet them? Who are you taking? Not too many knights I hope-"

"I'm leaving now. And I don't think bringing any knights with me is a good idea, it could give the wrong impression. They've learned to fear the red cloaks, so I thought I'd bring you, Merlin."

"Me?"

Arthur shrugged, smirking. "Well you are one of them, who else would I bring you idiot?" he rolled his eyes, "Be ready in an hour."

\--

Tension mounted between Merlin and Arthur as they neared the hastily pitched tents of the druids. The laughter of children and the scent of smoke surrounded them, and Merlin felt himself beginning to relax in the calming familiar atmosphere.

There was a shout as they rode into view, and dread consumed Arthur as women and children were ushered away for protection.

"Arthur Pendragon." A tall, dark skinned man draped in worn red robes stepped forward, his eyes narrowed with well-founded suspicion. Arthur nodded in return, slipping down from his horse. Merlin did the same, holding the reins of both mounts. "I pray your visit is a peaceful one."

Merlin studied him, filled with distant recognition. Arthur bowed his head, stepping forward carefully, all too aware of the stares directed at the sword worn on his hip. Hoping that he was making a wise decision, he slid the sword from its scabbard, and slowly placed at the feet of the druid leader.

"I've come to you and your people, in the hopes of making amends. I have nothing but regret for the actions taken against you and your kind, for I know you have only ever been a peaceful people."

The druid tilted his head, "Why do you come to us now?"

"I am the King now. My father has passed, and with him his reign of tyranny and intimidation. I plan to change things in my rule, for one the laws against magic. I thought it best to inform you and your people of my intentions as not to take you off guard, and to avoid the chance that you may think it a trap."

Satisfied, the druid leader nodded and stepped forward, over the sword. He offered Arthur his hand, a wide smile stretching across his face as the King graciously accepted. "My name is Albius. Perhaps you have met my brother," he turned pointedly to Merlin. "He was the leader of our clan before me. His name was Aglain."

Merlin stiffened, his gaze resting on his feet. His recognition revealed. Aglain had been the kind and gentle man to have found Morgana when she had been in need, stung by a scorpion the night she had left Camelot to search for the druid's and seek their help. He had been on his way to helping her realize and control her powers when Uther had sent a search party to retrieve her, leading to the druids persecution for their supposed involvement in her "kidnapping".

"I am so sorry for your loss." he murmured.

"A loss we suffered because of you." he spat.

"Merlin?" he looked up at Arthur's confused face.

He had explained the truth behind Morgana's kidnapping some time ago, but hadn't gone into the details regarding the druids themselves. "I came to warn Morgana that Uther had sent men after her, to help her return to Camelot. I was too late, and the knights followed my trail. Aglain was killed trying to help her escape with them."

Arthur's jaw tightened and he looked away. "I as well am sorry for your loss. I wish I could go back, but alas, all I can do now is provide a safer future, and put an end to these unjust executions. Perhaps we could continue our talk?" he asked hopefully.

Albius shot another glance at Merlin, but nodded, leading Arthur further into camp. Merlin followed at a distance after tethering the horses to a tree.

 _Emrys._  A whisper reached his ears and he stopped, confused. The druids continued on in their daily lives in somewhat strained relaxation, watching their leader and the King as they cooked or cleaned.

 _Emrys_. He whirled around. His jaw dropped, and he stepped back. "Mordred."

\--

In the village of Ealdor, Morgana touched her head as a wave of pain erupted in her skull. With her lips parted in a scream with no sound, she dropped, unconscious, into the flowerbed of the garden she'd been tending.


	12. i'm still fighting for peace

_**Third Person's Point of View** _

Hunith's hands were occupied with an abundance of vegetables when she heard a shout from her front garden. She turned, setting the ingredients for dinner down on the table.

"Hello?" she called.

She peeked out the window to see one of her neighbors, an older man named Arnold, lifting Morgana into his arms from where she lay in the garden. She gasped, throwing the door open and ushering him in.

"Come, come, set her here. On the cot." she pulled away the blankets, slipping the shoes from Morgana's feet as he lay her down gently.

"I saw her fall." he mumbled as he backed away.

"Thank you Arnold." she murmured, pulling the quilt up the girl's shoulders.

He nodded, dismissing himself without another word. Hunith whispered a quick prayer, thanking the God's it was Arnold who had found her. He was a quiet man who kept to himself, and the last person to speculate on gossip. Having Morgana here was a blessing, but she worried her identity wouldn't stay secret for very long.

Ealdor was not a part of Camelot, and so the village did it's best to stay out of the neighboring kingdom's affairs. But the seizing of Camelot's throne by Uther's bastard daughter was, unfortunately, common knowledge.

Here she went by the name Mora, and called herself a distant relative, but it in no way ensured her protection. Hunith brushed a hair from Morgana's face, watching with concern as her eyes flickered behind her lids. A hopeful smile stretched her lips, recognizing the signs of dreaming.

She could only hope and pray Morgana would wake soon.

\--

_It's quiet when she wakes, deathly quiet. Everything around her is blurred, as if a film has been set in front of her eyes. She rubs them, struggling to sit up. Her limbs feel weighed down, and a dull roar fills her ears._

_"Hunith?" she gets to her knees. Rocks cut into her skin through her dress and she gasps at the pain, stumbling to her feet. Things grow easier to see, and suddenly everything is clear. Darkness falls, and she stands in a sea of red cloaks and silver armor._

_She stands among the dead. Camelot's dead warriors._

_Her hand shakily covers her mouth, holding back her cries. Broken bodies litter the stony expanse and she moves forward dazedly, careful not to step on the backs of the fallen. This place is a wide circle of jagged rock, ringed by a forest so far away she can barely glimpse it. It seems as if there is no end to the devastation, no way out, no one left, and then she hears it._

_The familiar clash of steel._

_Morgana lifts her skirts and hurries in the direction of the sound, wincing as she nudges a boot with her leg._

_Two figures come into view in the distance, and she stumbles to a stop. Arthur is the first figure, familiar in his chain mail and armor, graceful in his practiced movements. The second is no one she recognizes, a stranger with blue eyes and black hair._

_They fight with vicious intent, the meeting of their swords the only sound left. The boy sneers with anger, yet Arthur is calm, determined._

_She finds she can move no further, her feet stuck as if she's glued where she stands. Their weapons move with deadly intent, so fast and so fluid she cannot catch a glimpse of either one. And she can do nothing._

_There is a grunt, and Arthur stands, suddenly still, with a sword thrust through his belly._

_"No!" she screams and it echoes._

_The boy smiles, watching with satisfaction as Arthur falls to one knee. A tear escapes, rolling to her chin. Arthur looks up, and thrusts his sword through Mordred's chest with the last of his strength. So quickly, it isn't registered until it's been done._

_The realization that this boy is Mordred comes as abruptly as Arthur's destruction, but she knows it is true, in her bones she knows it. The little druid boy whom she'd pleaded with her brother to save, whom she'd nursed back to health with such single-minded determination has just felled her brother._

_And Arthur has done the same._

_Mordred's smile wavers, but never dies, and he drops to the ground with a thud. His eyes remain open even in death, his lips curved in a sorrowful grin._

_Arthur looks down, and she knows, though Mordred was his enemy, he will grieve for him. She doesn't understand how this, she knows as well. In silence, Arthur falls to his side, rolling onto his back to stare up at the sky._

_A sob escapes her and she rushes forward, her feet suddenly unstuck. "Arthur!" she calls, falling to her knees beside him. He smiles briefly, gazing up at the sky._

_"Do you remember, when we would sneak out at night, just to see them?" he lifts a heavy hand, gesturing up at the sky._

_She sniffles, holding his head in her lap, stroking his hair from his eyes. "Of course I remember." she whispers, a tear dropping from her eye to his cheek._

_"My sister." he flashes her a ghost of the crooked grin she knows so well, and the light fades from his eyes._

_"My brother." Her screams swallow the night, the gold of her eyes a beacon in the black of the night._

_\--_

For a moment Merlin could only stare.

"Emrys." Mordred said his name aloud this time. Merlin shifted, his fingers twitching towards a fist.

"Mordred."

"Come." the boy turned away, beckoning him to follow. He looked in the direction Arthur walked, too caught up in his discussion with Albius to notice him. With a sigh he followed him up the slope, to an overlook above the campsite.

Mordred stood with his back to him. "Is Morgana alright?" he asked.

Merlin came to stand beside him. They looked down together at the druids bustling about their day, struggling to maintain composure in the wake of a King's arrival. "Why would you ask me that?" he said, suspicion tinging his voice.

Mordred looked up at him, unwilling to answer.

With a roll of his eyes Merlin gazed away, "She's safe. Far away from Camelot. Why do you ask me that?"

"I felt it, the balance of fate has shifted. It has something to do with her. With her fate." He sounded too wise for such a young age, yet Merlin understood the feelings he spoke of.

First when Morgause had died, and again when Uther passed. He hadn't been able to identify it at first, it had only been a fleeting feeling, a pang in his chest that hadn't lingered long enough to warrant a question. But when it had occurred more than once he'd come to realize the meaning.

Fate had changed. Morgana's involvement had changed it.

"Yes. The High Priestess Morgause has died, as well as King Uther."

"That man was never King." Mordred spat.

Merlin looked down on him, a part of him couldn't help but agree. "Even so." he murmured.

"I know of Morgana's schemes, and that she usurped the throne. Were you going to tell me?"

Merlin shrugged. "What reason would there have been to? She was under an enchantment, none of her actions were her own. I would not willingly paint her in a bad light."

"You speak more freely now. Why?"

Merlin wasn't sure himself. He'd always felt uneasy around Mordred, something he'd felt guilty about once upon a time. The Dragon's words had painted him as a villain, perhaps not of the present but the future. Yet now, with so much changing, he felt somehow more at ease around him.

"I don't know. Perhaps I no longer view you as a threat."

Mordred's stare was piercing. "You saw me as a threat?" he sounded hurt.

Merlin look down. "Yes."

"But why?"

"Would you understand if I said I couldn't explain?"

Mordred smiled, nodding. "I suppose. We all have our feelings, instincts. Though I promise, I never meant your loved ones harm."

"I understand. Thank you."

Mordred nodded again, yet another smile brightening his face. He'd never seen the boy look so happy, or young for that matter.

"You're welcome, Emrys."

\--

Morgana woke gasping. Her body shot up in bed, a blanket falling from her shoulders. Her chest rose heavily with each breath, and her hands tremor.

"Morgana?" Hunith appeared at her side, wrapping her in a warm embrace. For a moment it was as if she was in Camelot, waking from a nightmare to find herself in Gwen's comforting arms.

But this was not Camelot, and her nightmares were not nightmares. Visions rather, of the future. And this one she would never allow to pass. Arthur would die an old man, surrounded by his loved ones.

Her gaze grew hard as she slowed her breathing, clutching Hunith will all her might. She had only just been given a second chance with her brother, she wouldn't by any means allow Mordred to spoil it.

Mordred, the small child she'd helped smuggle from Camelot, the boy with eyes like ice so akin to her own. She'd seen in him what she'd felt herself, a deep mistrust of the world and fear of the dangers it wrought.

From the moment Merlin had burst into her chambers seeking protection for him she'd felt a strange connection with Mordred, a kinship not unlike the one she shared with Arthur. But all the affection in the world wouldn't save him from her wrath should he dare move against her brother.

\--

Arthur looked over Albius' few possessions as they entered his tent, noting the care with which he treated his things. His host gestured to a pair of cushions set around a small table, an ornate tea pot set in the center.

He thanked him and sat, graciously accepting the cup set in his hands, though he didn't intend to drink much of it. He'd never acquired the taste for it. He remembered long ago when he and Morgana had shared a nanny who'd insisted on a cup each day, and rapped their knuckles with her cane whenever she caught them dumping the steaming beverage into a nearby vase.

The druid leader sipped from his cup before clearing his throat. "I have to ask you, what caused this decision? I would imagine it is not taken lightly in your Kingdom. As far as I was aware you firmly agreed with your father's decisions up until his death."

Arthur winced, setting his cup down. "I've not always agreed with my father, and moving against a King is a dangerous thing. To understand, I should explain to you of my sister. I would have to assume you're familiar with her." At Albius' nod he continued. "I was only recently made aware of her magic, as well as her bloodline. She had a half-sister, Morgause, who placed her under a spell."

"Spell?"

"Yes. Morgause entranced her with some kind of root, taking from her her free will. When it took effect, she was bent on causing Camelot's downfall. When her sister was killed after attempting to usurp Camelot's throne, she was released."

He looked down at his fists in his lap. He hated thinking of that time, the cold calculating gaze as she was crowned, the fury in her eyes as she cradled her dying sister in her arms.

"As I was saying, when she woke from the spell, my knights and I had already recovered her. We brought her to my father, who decided she must be executed." Abius only grunted, seemingly not surprised at the King's willingness to execute his only daughter. "I had a plan to help her escape, but the timing of her death was moved forward. As the pyre was lit, Merlin revealed himself, and they vanished."

"He spirited her away." Albius' gaze was awash with wonder. "That is very advanced magic for such a young man."

"Yes. I would assume so."

"Well I must ask, is your sister alright?"

"She is. For the moment she is under the care of Merlin's mother, far from here."

"I see, and you?"

He frowned, "Me?"

"How are you faring? It must be difficult. Having been taught all your life to hate magic and those who wield it, and to find out in a small amount of time that both your best friend and your sister are so intertwined with it."

"Well," he stuttered. "I suppose. I don't feel sorry for myself if that's what you ask. My sister grew under the same lessons as I, and she herself had magic. She had to deal with the fear of having the very thing our father was so afraid of. To realize that one day he could have her executed for such a crime as being born the way she was, I can't imagine how terrified she must have been."

"I see. You still haven't answered my question though. How do you feel about it? About changing these laws? About Merlin and Morgana?"

"I feel it's what is right. My father was fearful of magic and it turned his mind to madness. He murdered innocent men, women, and children, and I could never do the same. My friend and my sister have magic, and I could never live with myself if I followed in our father's footsteps."

Albius nodded, as if he'd heard everything he hoped, and stood. "Well then, shall I see you off?"

He scrambled up as Albius slipped from the tent, caught off guard by his sudden departure. "Of course." he mumbled, straightening his cloak.

Merlin stood nearby, talking quietly with a young boy. A boy with bright blue eyes and black hair, a boy he struggled to recognize. "Merlin."

His friend looked up, smiling. "Arthur. Surely you remember Mordred?"

Yes, the child he'd smuggled from Camelot. He remembered him well. "Of course. Mordred. I trust you're doing well?" The boy nodded and smiled. He remembered he didn't speak much. "Yes. Well then, let's get on the road. I'm sure Guinevere will be wondering after me."

He smiled once more at the boy, waving as he mounted his horse. The druids smiled and waved in return, cheering for their gracious new King. Merlin watched with a grin.

The Once and Future King of Camelot had appeared.


	13. how did we get here

**_Third Person's Point of View_ **

Arthur stood tall and regal on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, hands clasped at the waist. His golden crown rested comfortably upon his head, and his blue eyes sparked with nerves calmed by the knowledge that Gwen was waiting for him in the throne room. Much had gone into the preparation of this day, and Merlin couldn't help but smile proudly from his position in the shadows.

Men, women, and children alike gathered in the square with white knuckles and grim frowns, unsure of what lay in store for them.

He raised one hand and smiled warmly down at his people, hoping to offer some sort of comfort before tearing the world they knew irreparably in two.

"Good people of Camelot," he began, "I have asked you here today, to share a revelation with you. My father, Uther Pendragon, was a great King and a good man. But he was misguided. He believed magic and those who wielded it could do no good. I know now that he was wrong."

Already he could hear the whispering of the people growing louder, prepared at any moment to morph into a roar of confusion.

"Magic is not evil, nor is it good. It is merely a sword, bent to the will of its master. Those who control it decide the nature of their powers. People with magic are not cursed, nor should they be considered criminals. We are all the same, we are all citizens of Camelot. My father feared magic in its entirety, and so he fought against it. I aim to do things differently. On this day, I declare that those with magic will no longer be persecuted for their gifts. Magic is no longer punishable by death."

\--

_Merlin,_  
_I am glad to hear things are going along as you had hoped, and I can say with joy that news of Arthur's decision has already spread through Ealdor. The general attitude towards his stance on magic is relief, though there are some who are angry. Yet no one is particularly concerned since the village is not a part of Camelot. I hope my words reassure you some, and find you in good spirits. Your mother has been teaching me much in my time here, how to garden and cook and clean, I never truly understood Gwen's duties until now! As for your mother I can see that she misses you a great deal, but she is ever so proud of the work you've been doing in Camelot, and never lets an opportunity to say so pass by. I also must tell you how deeply I blushed when I read the words you put down of our last moment together, and I hope you know I miss you as well. Sometimes when I lay on the cot at night to sleep, I think of your hands on my waist and the taste of your lips on my tongue, and wish you were here with me. I hope we will see one another soon. Also, I have enclosed letters to both Arthur and Guinevere, please see that they get them._

_Sincerely,_  
_Morgana_

Merlin could feel his cheeks stretch as he grinned, carefully re-folding the heavy writing stock, his fingers tracing the swooping letters of his name. Sitting up on his cot he tucked her letter in the crevice between his bed and the wooden frame, draping the blanket to keep it out of sight.

He could feel the tips of his ears grow hot as he blushed, thinking back on her scandalous words.

The taste of your lips on my tongue resonated in his head and he felt a shiver crawl down his spine as he tucked Gwen and Arthur's letters into the waistband of his trousers.

Ducking out of his small room he shut the door behind him and stepped out into the hall, creeping quietly towards the new King's chambers.

The ban on magic had been lifted a little over a week ago, and though he'd been pardoned publicly for his actions at Morgana's execution he still felt it best to keep out of sight. Things were changing rapidly in Camelot but he still felt the familiar instinct to stay hidden to stay safe as strongly as ever.

Merlin stopped outside the door to Arthur’s study and knocked, his brows furrowing at the whispering from within. The king cleared his throat and called for him to enter. Guinevere stood at the window, skirts somewhat rumpled and cheeks flushed. “Good morning Merlin!” she greeted cheerfully.

Arthur, in his chair at the desk kept his eyes on his papers. Merlin rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Good morning, Gwen, Arthur.” He stepped closer, glancing down at the list of names Arthur’s fingers were drumming over. “Is that the registry?”

“Yes. Only thirty have come forward.” He murmured, sounding disheartened.

“Thirty? That’s wonderful! It’s only been a few days, the numbers will only keep climbing.” He encouraged. “As time passes, they will see you’ve taken no action against those who’ve already signed the register. More will come.”

“I suppose you’re right. I just expected the people to feel safe enough with me. A bit naïve of me, really.” He laughed a tad bitterly. Gwen stepped behind his chair, laying a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

The pounding of boots came from the hall and the door flew open without warning, Sir Leon standing breathless in the doorway. “My Lord, a large party of druids approaches. They’re making for the gates.”

Arthur and Merlin exchanged a glance, hope coloring their harried thoughts. Together they made for the citadel steps, Guinevere on their heels. Approaching slowly, Albius led his clan towards them, men, women, and children alike, carrying their belongings and all they owned with them.

Arthur, back straight and head held high, smiled as he walked to meet the druid leader. As they met, they clasped hands and Arthur allowed a laugh to bubble from his lips. “I cannot express how very glad I am to see you.”

\--

Morgana watched as the skins of the potatoes dropped to the bowl at her feet, knife moving quickly under her hands. Hunith stood at the pot over the fire, preparing another element to their dinner.

There was a commotion from outside and Morgana stood, walking towards the window. Outside in the streets, their neighbors and fellow villagers streamed from their homes, adding to the crowd gathered at the village line. Curious, Morgana walked from the house and into the yard, Hunith hurrying behind her.

“Arnold.” Hunith called out to their elderly neighbor. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged, then gestured to the forest, past the villagers. Only just visible through the trees, a clan of druids moved quickly past Ealdor. The carried packs and towed wagons behind them as they moved through the shade of the wood, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people.

Morgana slipped from Hunith’s side and into the trees at the back of the house. She knew the kindness of druids, knew that despite their caution they would not harm her if she approached. She made her way around the village to the other side of the trees, across from the village line and the other side of the druids.

She called out quietly as a woman with children walked past. “Excuse me, miss.” The woman stopped, bewildered until she spotted Morgana nearby. Warily, she approached, squeezing her children’s hands tight. “Not to impose, but may I ask where you’re all headed?”

The young woman smiled. “We’re going to Camelot, to live in the King’s peaceful new kingdom.”

Morgana froze. The King’s peaceful new kingdom. She had never thought to hear such words, especially regarding Camelot. She smiled, tears welling in her eyes despite herself. Nearly all her life she had feared the King she lived under, feared for her very life. The magic she possessed painted a target on her back, and caused her terror she had never thought to know. To think, these young children would never know such a life, and in Camelot, made her heart race with joy.

But with joy came sadness. Sadness, that she would not be there to partake in such happiness, that she would not see the peace Arthur had brought about.

Clearing her throat she thanked the druid woman. “Thank you.” She walked away, back into the shadows of the forest, allowing the tears to come down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently this hasn't been updated since February, woops. anyway I know this is short but it was kind of just meant to be a quick filler to show Arthurs changing of the laws and the ensuing peace and trust from the druids and the sorta development of the long distance relationship of merlin and morgana. they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder ;) so as always, please leave me so comments and lemme know what you guys are thinking or if anyones even still reading this


	14. after the night (when we wake up)

_**Third Person’s Point of View** _

Arthur stood quietly beside his seat at the round table, watching as the druid elders and the Kings that made up the five kingdoms convened. He ran his hand along the smooth wood, his nail catching in a groove. He’d had the table commissioned shortly after his coronation, a representation of the new start his kingdom had undergone.

The Kings murmured amongst themselves as they took their seats, nervous and unsure of the druids nearby. As the various members of this newly birthed council sat, he called for silence.

“My Lords, my friends. You have been called here so we may discuss the changes I have made to the laws of Camelot. As one of the five Kingdoms, it is my duty to go over these changes with all of you. First and foremost, I have repealed the ban on magic. My beliefs differ from my fathers, and I am confident I have made the right decision.”

“You have only just become King, and your first act is to go against your father’s most staunch belief?” King Godwyn of Gawant spoke out.

“Yes, how can you be sure those with magic will not take this opportunity to gather and overthrow you? You could be setting yourself up for a coupe!” King Olaf added.

From beside him Gwen reached for his hand and squeezed it beneath the table, smiling encouragingly. He didn’t believe that their doubts could come to fruition, but it stung that these men had such little faith in him. He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, he should have realized being young as he was would lead these men to think little of his capabilities as a ruler.

“I for one think those with magic have no place amongst us, they have proven time and time again throughout history that they are untrustworthy. Have we forgotten the reasons behind the Great Purge already?” King Rodor expressed. The men around the table, druids excluded, murmured amongst themselves.

Merlin stewed quietly from where he stood in the corner, arms folded tightly across his chest. These men, these Kings, knew nothing of the struggles the people of Camelot had gone through. Time and time again, those with magic, women and children, were executed for the ability of possessing magic. Most had done nothing, or had only wanted to protect or heal their loved ones.

Arthur cleared his throat and the voices died. “To make myself clear, I did not convene this council to seek your approval in any way. I only sought to make you aware, and to keep the peace between the five Kingdoms. I will not change my decision based on your opinions. I am confident in the word both Albius and those within my kingdom have given me. My decision stands.”

King Bayard smiled approvingly, nodding his head. Though somewhat disgruntled at Arthur’s dismissal of their opinions, the others nodded in grudging respect.

Though his heart beat rapidly in his chest Arthur kept his composure calm and steadfast, pleased to see the objections die with his words. Albius smiled from across the table, pleased to see his new King honoring his word and their agreement.

\--

_Dear Morgana,_  
_I must tell you how proud of Arthur you should be. His actions and bravery in the face of the Kings of Olin, Gawant, Mercia, and Nemeth were amazing! They questioned his ability to lead (not in so many words) and whether his decision to repeal the ban was wise, and he told them his decision would not be changed, and he did not seek their approval. It was astounding! Druids and magic users alike find Camelot a safe place to come to now, and it is amazing to see the life that has been breathed into the kingdom. Also, I thought you would like to know, I’ve seen and spoken with Mordred. He is well. I only saw him for a few moments, but he is the same as I remember, and he asked after you. On another note, I cannot express how much I miss you, and cannot wait to see you again. Perhaps I will come visit, with things going so well here I have much free time. I don’t believe his royal pratness would miss me for a few days. Oh, I almost forgot. Arthur’s uncle Agravaine arrived at court a few days ago. He says he’s here to help Arthur through the dark times of Uther’s death, but I can’t explain it, there’s something about him I don’t trust. I hope I’m wrong though, for Arthur’s sake. Sorry to end this on a sour note, I hope to see you soon._

_Yours,_  
_Merlin_

Morgana folded the letter gently, fingers stroking the heavy paper thoughtfully. She remembered Agravaine vaguely, from when he’d visited once. She’d been very young, but something about him had always made her uncomfortable.

What troubled her more was the thought of Mordred. In her vision he had killed Arthur, and Arthur had killed him. To think that he was nearby, that her brother had been so close to him scared her tremendously. She had once felt something for Mordred, a kinship, a connection, but that bared no thought now that he was a danger to her brother.

She could not allow her past feelings for him to overshadow her need to protect Arthur. Blood was thicker than whatever she had shared with Mordred.

She stood from the chair by the fire and kneeled by her cot, reaching beneath it. Wrapped in twine the few letters she’d received from Merlin were gathered together and tightly bound, kept safe under her bed.

She slipped his most recent letter to the top and replaced it beneath her cot. She got up off her knees just as Hunith came back inside, carrying a few flowers.

“It’s quite late Morgana, what are you still doing up?” she asked, smiling gently as she placed her flowers in a small cloudy blue vase.

“I could ask you the same.” She murmured teasingly.

Hunith sat down by the fire, laughing. “I suppose you could. I’m not quite sleepy yet, and I remembered the bellflowers I saw earlier in the day, and I thought I’d pick them before I went to bed. And you?”

Morgana took a seat on her cot. “I received another letter from Merlin.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He says Arthur’s been quite brave, that he stood with his decision and trusted those with magic.”

“That’s quite wonderful news isn’t it?”

“Quite.”

“Then what troubles you child?”

Morgana shook her head, but could not deny it. She was troubled at the thought of Mordred, and the dream she’d had not long ago. Mordred was destined to be Arthur’s doom. She’d seen it. And yet, his clan now lived in Camelot. He was near, and it frightened her.

“There was a boy I cared for once. Very young. I now have reason to believe he may harm Arthur. I fear for him.”

Hunith came to sit beside her. “But Merlin is there. He will keep Arthur safe, you know this.”

“I do. But I feel as though, there is no way to stop what’s coming. The thought of not having control, it scares me more than I can bare. I don’t know how to stand this feeling.”

Hunith tutted and pulled her close, wrapping her in a warm embrace. Morgana held her back, taking comfort in her presence.

“There are some things that we cannot change. Some things that I believe, are destiny. But, if you believe strongly enough, if you care enough, I believe it is possible to change destiny, to bend it to your will, so long as your will is good.”

Hunith pulled back, smiling comfortingly.

“Thank you Hunith. Perhaps you’re right.”

\--

_She lay in a meadow, warm and smelling strongly of the flowers that surround her. Lilacs and daisies and wildflowers of every variation and color. She is alone, her fingers moving through the soft grass beneath her. There is not a thought that troubles her, not a worry that consumes her._

_She hears rustling but it does not scare her, and from the bushes across the clearing Merlin walks out. He smiles, coming towards her._

_Morgana smiles in turn, leaning up on her elbows. He comes down beside her, leaning over her so that the he blocks the sun from her face. She reaches for him, her fingers coming to rest upon his cheek. He lowers himself closer, so that his lips come down on hers. She sighs into his kiss, her hand moving to the back of his neck._

_His body rests more heavily on hers, his hips bracketed hers, his chest against her breasts. His lips trail to her jaw, to her neck, to rest upon her pulse. Her nails rake through his hair. She stares up, past him, to the sun._

\--

Morgana startled awake, her skin flushed, eyes wide. She could still feel Merlins touch on her face. She breathed shakily, unable to understand the darkness in her heart. Her dream was kind, and happy, and full of joy, but she was left only with an unshakable feeling of dread.

It felt as though someone had dropped a giant weight onto her shoulders, as though a huge responsibility had been set onto her, yet she does not even know what it is. It tugged at her, leaving her feeling restless and confused. She cannot escape it, and thoughts of her vision creeped steadily through her thoughts.

Again and again, she watched Mordred stab Arthur, unable to escape it. Her chest ached, almost as if her heart was crying out at the thought of what’s to come. But she remembered what Hunith said, that perhaps destiny could be changed. And though the thought that perhaps she could change what is meant to come, the moment in time that plagued her replayed in taunting clarity.

She turned on her side, burying her face in the pillow beneath her head. Into the fluffy down she screamed, hoping Hunith could not hear her.


	15. caught between heaven and hell

_**Third Person’s Point of View** _

From the tree line outside Ealdor Merlin sat astride his horse, watching as Morgana leisurely moved through the garden of his childhood home. In her hand she held an old straw basket, laden heavy with the various flowers she’d picked.

Smiling softly to himself he dismounted, gathering his horse’s reins as he strode from the cover of the trees. As he neared the small gate to the yard Morgana looked up, her hand over her eyes to shade her from the sun. She placed the basket by her feet as he tied his horse to the post.

As he entered the garden she stepped forward, smiling gently. Overjoyed he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Somewhat hesitantly, she held him back, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

Morgana’s eyes fluttered shut as he sighed into her neck, unable to help herself from stealing this moment with him. She knew Hunith could come back any second, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “I’m so happy to see you.” She murmured.

He pulled away, his hand cupping her cheek. “And I you.”

Glancing away demurely Morgana picked up her basket and led him inside. He couldn’t help but notice how quiet she seemed, though he brushed it off as simply the time they’d spent apart from one another.

“Your mother is in the square to pick up a few things.” She explains, when she noticed his searching gaze. She gathered her bundle of flowers and wrapped it in a soft blue ribbon, her fingers moving deftly. Merlin couldn’t tear his stare from her.

Though it had not been long since he had left her behind it seemed as if they’d spent a year apart, so much had changed. He felt changed, after all that had happened. He no longer hid parts of himself that had once put him in danger, he felt more confident in his place in the world.

“So how are you, Merlin? How is life in Camelot? Being pardoned and accepted there must make things, different.” She said, taking a seat by the fire. She gestured for him to take the one across from her.

Accepting the cup of tea she handed him he sat as well, drumming his fingers alongside the mug. “I’m well. Life is, quite different. Though we are not yet allowed to use magic quite so boldly in public, it is slowly becoming accepted. There are druids living in Camelot now, and at least a hundred people have signed the register so far. I suppose there will be no way to know if all magic users have signed, but I believe most have. Things are moving forward.”

She nodded. “And, Agravaine? Has he given you any cause yet to be suspicious?”

“No.” he admitted. “Not yet, anyway. I honestly hope my worries are unfounded, but something about him just seems off. I can’t explain it.”

“I understand. I’ve only met him once or twice before, but something about him always bothered me. He always seemed, off.”

“Exactly!” he agreed.

“And what about Mordred?” she said.

“What about him?”

“Is he in Camelot as well?”

“I don’t know. I suppose he is, his clan is so I would have to think he is. I can’t say I’ve seen him though. Why do you ask?”

Morgana smiled sweetly. “Oh, no reason really. I only wondered after him. He was such a sweet boy.”

“Yes.” He murmured.

“And how is Arthur? Gwen?”

He laughed. “Well. Still pretending no one knows what they get up to when they’re alone.”

“As if either of them are skilled at secrecy.” She scoffed playfully.

“Certainly not.” He leaned forward a bit. “I would say we’re much better.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Oh?”

“Yes. And I think I’ve had just enough small talk. All I can think of since you sent me your fist letter was kissing you again. I think I’ve waited long enough.” He dragged his chair closer, so that their knees bumped, and leaned forward.

His hands cupped her face and he pulled her close, his thumbs skimming her cheekbones. He leaned his head close, touching his lips to hers, ever so slowly. Soft and sweet, his mouth moved against hers, his head tilted for a better angle.

Morgana moaned, her hands coming to his shoulders, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. She shifted, nipping at his bottom lip as he growled deep in his throat.

Pushing back she got to her feet, smiling devilishly as she came to sit in his lap. His hand came to rest on her hip, holding her close. She kissed him again, hard, eager. He gasped into her mouth and she smirked, her hand wound tight in his hair.

His fingers skimmed up her waist, resting hesitantly at the edge of her breast. She breathed shakily into their kiss, nodding just enough so he would know she approved. His lips curved as he palmed her, satisfied with the shaky breath she let loose.

He moved his lips to the edge of her mouth, to her jaw, trailing down her neck to kiss her collarbone. Morgana smiled, head tilted back as she gazed into the flames beside them.

He made her feel things she never thought she would ever get to experience. Her body thrummed in response to his touch, her heart quickened and her pulse raced. She let out a hushed whimper as he skimmed his finger high up on her thigh, exhaling roughly against her cheek.

“You make me feel things I don’t understand.” She whispered hoarsely.

He chuckled, “I feel the same.”

“Do you?”

He pulled back, his gaze heated. Her skin grew flushed at the way he looked at her, as if he’d never seen anything quite like her.

“You are, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And in all honesty, I have no idea what you see in me.”

She slipped her hands from his hair to rest them on his cheeks, smiling gently. “Merlin, you understand me. Perhaps you’ve kept secrets, perhaps you’ve done some things I’m not sure I can forgive. But you’re here now, and you see me.” She murmured.

For a moment he only stared, unable to understand the complexity of this woman that had chosen him. He surged forward, grasping her to him as their mouths fit together once more. She gasped into him, fitting herself against him like they were meant to be.

\--

Agravaine squinted into the dim lighting of the tunnel he’d found himself in, torch held out in front of the blank space before him. Since his arrival into Camelot he’d been searching for a way out, but not through the gates.

He needed an alternate route, a discreet way of moving large groupings of men, soldiers, into the grounds. He nearly tripped over a burnt out torch and cursed, skirting the wall carefully. He didn’t need any more surprises. No one knew where he was, if something happened to him down here he’d be dead. In more ways than one.

A shaft of light came from up ahead and he smiled, moving more quickly through the tunnel. It had been some time since he’d begun walking, and this was the third of the routes he had searched. He was running out of the precious little time he had left.

Turning a gentle slope he came to a quick stop at a grate in the wall. He grinned. Outside, up a small hill was the forest just outside Camelot. He had found his way.

\--

Guinevere smiled at a passing servant as she carried the breakfast tray to Arthur’s chambers, carefully avoiding the hem of her skirts. She wasn’t used to such formal dresses at all times of the days, her servant’s dresses had always had a slightly shorter front to make stairs easier.

To the guard posted at Arthur’s door Guinevere nodded, smiling gratefully as he opened the door for her. “Lady Guinevere, your majesty.” He announced.

“Gwen!” Arthur greeted, standing from his desk. He held out his hands for the tray as the door closed quietly behind her, placing it onto the small table by the fireplace.

“Good morning Arthur. I thought you might need something to eat, you’ve been holed up in here since Merlin left.” She chastised gently.

Arthur blushed, sitting down across from her. “I admit I’m feeling a bit peckish. Won’t you join me?” she nodded, allowing him to pull out a seat for her.

As she dispersed the dishes Arthur cleared his throat, “Might I ask why you didn’t join Merlin to visit Morgana? I can tell you miss her.”

Gwen frowned, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. She seemed to consider her answer carefully, her forehead wrinkling in thought. “I have. And as much as I wished to see her, my place is here now.” She answered.

He nodded, popping a grape into his mouth with a smirk.

Somewhat awkwardly Gwen looked away, smoothing her hands down her skirts until any nonexistent wrinkle was smoothed out. “So how are the talks with your council going? Are the other Kings questioning anymore of your decisions?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Having successfully been diverted Arthur shrugged, “They’re going alright I suppose. They have only been so bold considering magic. They are stubborn, and set most strongly in their ways, but seem willing to watch me prove myself. Not that I have anything to prove to them, though they obviously think differently. Being younger than any of them were when they took their thrones, they seem to think me naïve.”

“In time they’ll see how capable of being a ruler you are.” She encouraged. He nodded, though his thoughts seemed to have drifted elsewhere. “Arthur?”

“Guinevere, would you consider taking an official position in my court now that Morgana no longer requires your services?”

Curious, she raised an eyebrow. “A position, what kind of position?”

“I would like to name you, Governess of Affairs.”

Guinevere laughed, a bit puzzled. “Arthur, is that even a real position?”

He scoffed, somewhat affronted. “Why Guinevere, are you insinuating I made this title up?”

“Of course not, your majesty.” she giggled.

“Well, I did only recently come up with this position, not that it’s relevant to this discussion.” He speared a bite of egg. “I came up with the idea for it when I realized, I have no idea how to plan banquets or balls or welcoming parties, not to mention how to handle guests, or guest chambers. Morgana mostly handled those affairs for my father, not in any specific position but because she was a lady and it was expected of her to know how to handle those things. And I realized, since you were once a maidservant you know the castle better than any lady of the court, and you’ve helped Morgana with such things in the past. And to be honest, you are the only person I could think to trust with such a position.” He brought his bite to his mouth and chewed, watching Guinevere for reaction.

Somewhat shocked at his lengthy reasoning Gwen set down her fork and leaned back. “Arthur, I cannot say how deeply you’ve flattered me. Though, you put much more faith in me than I deserve, I accept.” She blushed profusely.

“Excellent!” Arthur exclaimed, gleefully jumping from his chair. He leaned down, pressing a quick, invigorated kiss to her lips.

Gwen squealed, surprised at his outburst. She laughed against his touch, hands caught in the doublet he wore. For a moment she allowed herself to be swept away in the moment, hoping they wouldn’t be interrupted by an untimely knock at the door as they so often were.

\--

For only a few short - though overwhelmingly pleasant - days, Merlin spent his time in Ealdor. He worked alongside Morgana and his mother in the garden, planting, weeding and harvesting. It was hard work, and it felt invigorating to spend his days in the sun with the people he cared most for.

Morgana toiled alongside him, sharing secret smiles with him, showing him how to do things he had long since forgotten in his time at Camelot. While he had perfected the polishing of armor and the making of beds he had let slip from his mind the skills it took to pick weeds and not the plants it grew alongside of, or how to tell the various vegetables apart.

Their nights were spent in mutual silence, sitting close to one another by the fire. Though once his mother fell asleep, they’d lean closer, and whisper of magic and Camelot, their conversations interrupted by the occasional kiss and caress.

At the end of his time in Ealdor, Merlin stood across from Morgana as his mother tended his horse, attempting to find the words of goodbye. But besides that, he had a question for her. One that plagued him like a growing sore, refusing to fade away as he so wished it would.

He tugged her close, fingers brushing her hair behind her ears. “I don’t want to ruin what little time we have left together.” She frowned. “But I have to ask you something, else I fear I’ll go mad with wondering. What, do these past few days mean for us? For who we are to one another. What are we to each other?”

She resisted the urge to pull away. She had felt Merlin wanted to ask her something along these lines, and she’d feared it. She couldn’t quite say what it was she felt for him, and what she was certain of sometimes became overshadowed by her doubts.

Merlin, though she could see how deeply he regretted it, had hurt her. He had lied, kept secrets, and poisoned her. She told herself, and Merlin, that she had moved past it, but the truth was she sometimes thought of it and felt nothing but hatred. It made her think of the time she had been under Morgause’s control, when all she thought of and felt was her hatred for others. It scared her, but she couldn’t quite push it away.

She looked away. “I feel something for you. And you feel something for me. Must we label it?”

He smiled weakly, angry with himself for being disappointed. He had no right to ask of love in such little time. Though he supposed, he had felt something for her much longer than she had felt something for him.

He shook his head, bending down to press one last, longing kiss to her lips.

Together, they walked from the house. His mother waited for him with his mounts reins in her hand, smiling though tears built in her eyes.

Walking from Morgana’s side he embraced Hunith tightly, murmuring assurances that he would soon return. When she released him he climbed into the saddle, raising his hand in farewell.

As he cantered into the woods, Morgana stood and watched. Hunith squeezed her hand once, gently, then turned and walked to the house. Morgana could not look nor turn away, though he had long since disappeared. She felt happy, though sadness lingered in the back of her heart, brought on by the thought of her disturbing dream.

It seemed a lifetime ago she had dreampt of him, bestowing kisses on her that should have only brought happiness and bliss, yet left her feeling cold and burdened by an immeasurable weight.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she could not be bothered to brush it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i think this was pretty good, and i know not a lot of action happened it showed where things are headed in terms of camelot's new enemy and the relationships between morgana and merlin and arthur and guinevere. hope this satisfied everyone :)


	16. something wicked

_**Third Person’s Point of View**_  
[Two weeks since Merlin’s return to Camelot]

_Morgana smiles distantly to herself, running the rough bar of soap Hunith had gifted her down her arms. She hasn’t had a proper bath since before she’d escaped Camelot, and the cool water feels soothing to the soul. She dips down so it rushes over her shoulders, tilting her head back to immerse all of her hair._

_Dirt and flakes of dried leaves drift away, leaving her hair bare as she runs her fingers through its tangles. The trees nearby whisper to her, speaking in an ancient language long dead to anyone who could understand. But it calms her, and she feels nothing but peace in their presence._

_She moves the bar up to her neck then rests it on a rock, submerging herself completely. She emerges, clean, refreshed, pure. There’s a rustle from the shore, and from the tree line Merlin walks. He smiles at her, raises a hand in greeting._

_Emboldened, she steps from the water so that it laps at her waist, revealing her breasts. A coy smile paints her lips. Merlin should be blushing, but rather he looks confident as he comes towards her – fully clothed – into the river._

_He reaches her in only a few short steps, and for a moment they one stand across from one another. He gazes at her, then reaches out a hand. He rests it against her neck, down her collarbone, to her breast, his finger skimming her nipple._

_She shivers, goose-flesh popping up along her arms. She leans forward and kisses him soundly, stepping so they are flush against one another. His hands roam her body, slipping down to her hips, fingers firm. She knows he’s not supposed to be here, didn’t he just leave? But she doesn’t question it, only moans low in her throat as his hands move up over her belly and towards her chest._

_His touch wanders until he’s tangled his fingers in her hair, mouth slanting against hers, tongue probing experimentally. She can only sigh against him, allow him, not a single part of her willing to deny him. All she feels is pleasure, all she knows is pleasure and this lust that overwhelms her._

_His fingers move to her neck, thumb nail skimming her pulse. She can feel the callouses on the pads of his hand, feels the heavy warmth as they circle her throat. He squeezes, and at first she doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Then she gasps, unable to take in air. She tries in vain to pull away, eyes wide._

_He stares at her, unseeing, his eyes as black as night, his grip growing tighter. She scratches at his wrists, choking. And suddenly she’s in Camelot’s throne room, and she is not naked rather she is in a green dress she still sees in her nightmares, and he’s crying as he holds her. But this time he’s staring her in the eyes as he takes her life, unseeing._

_He shakes his head as her chest grows tighter and her lungs burn, “If only you’d open your eyes.” He says. She can only choke a gasp from her throat. “Open your eyes!”_

\--

Morgana bolted up in her cot, chest heaving, and a light sheen of sweat coating her skin. She breathed heavy, shivering, Merlin’s unflinching black gaze stuck in her head. She stumbled from under her blankets, hand searching for purchase against the wall. The mirror across the room called out to her. She reached for it with trembling fingers. Her breath hitched at her reflection.

Bruises in the shapes of fingers – quickly darkening – lined her throat.

\--

In the morning Morgana stood from her bed, pulling her night dress from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet and she pulled on a dark blue dress, lacing the sleeves at her wrists. When Hunith woke she helped her to tie up the back as well as her brown leather waist bodice. She did not ask about the bruises.

Once in the yard, tools in hand, she knelt down in the garden, using her trowel to pull up a batch of radishes. She moved in familiar quick movements, allowing her thoughts to blur until all that she knew was the constant numbing movements of monotonous work.

But it only worked for so long. No amount of time spent with her fingers in the dirt could erase the image of Merlin’s sightless gaze from her mind, the feeling of his hands wrapped around her throat. She rubbed her head, leaving behind a smudge of dirt. She wanted so desperately to pretend it hadn’t happened, to pretend it hadn’t meant anything.

But she knew, the next time she saw him, the next time he walked towards her, she would flinch. The thought of him made her chest ache, and her heart pound. Only days ago she thought of him with nothing but affection and fondness, and the first moment of him that leapt to the forefront of her mind were his lips on hers. Now it was his hands on her neck.

A commotion jolted her from her thoughts. From the direction of the village square the sound of a horse broke the quiet. Hooves thundered and several voices echoed around them, their words unintelligible. A scream split the air.

Hunith appeared in the doorway to the house, eyes wide and startled. “What’s going on?”

“Get inside. Bolt the door.”

“Morgana, no-”

Her eyes burnt gold and she flung out a hand, the door slamming shut before Hunith could utter another word. She felt the lock move into place in her head, and only then did she turn away from the house.

Confident Merlin’s mother would be unable to get herself into any trouble she lifted her skirts and ran to the shed. Against the wall rested her father’s sword, a gift Arthur had sent with Merlin when he’d visited. The pommel was smooth and the grip felt familiar and comfortable in her hand.

She held her skirt up with one hand and her sword in the other, then turned and ran towards the chaos.

\--

Sir Leon rode with a small band of knights, horses eager, and faces bright. Times were peaceful, and their patrols were mostly spent directing druids to Camelot and scaring off mercenaries hoping to leap on the defenseless people.

To say the knights had been denied any serious action in the past month or so would be fair. Leon smiled to himself as one of the younger men had trouble reigning in his mount, bumping into an older, less tolerant knight.

Shaking his head Leon nudged his horse up a bluff that overlooked the forest, their last stop before turning and heading back for Camelot.

“Sir Leon!” the younger knight, Roan, called from where he stood to the left.

He rode towards him, “What is it?”

“There.” He pointed. Rising tall above the trees, thick and black, was smoke.

“Leon? Should we wait for the next rotation?”

He shook his head. “No, we’ll go ourselves.”

He gathered the rest of the knights and they made their way cautiously, quietly, towards the smoke’s origins. Not far from the bluff they had spotted it from, the fire was large and surrounded by men. Soldiers, and mercenaries, sharpening swords and raising tents. They were many, overwhelmingly many. An army. They carried an unfamiliar sigil, bared on flags staked into the ground.

Leon gaped at the sight before him, backing his mount into the trees. With his knights rallied beside him he rode for Camelot, to tell his king of the threat looming on the not so distant horizon.

\--

“Your Majesty, there’s an unidentified army approaching Camelot’s borders. They carry no recognizable sigil.”

Arthur looked up from his plate, distantly wondering why it was always Leon who brought him bad news. He stood, fists clenched. “Guinevere, gather the women and children. Get them to the citadel.”

“Of course.”

Arthur led the way to the throne room where the rest of his knights already waited. He took his seat, indicating for them to follow his lead. “What information have you gathered?”

Gwaine cleared his throat. “Most of them looked like mercenaries.”

Percival nodded. “I believe Agravaine is with them.” He murmured.

Arthur turned sharply, “Percival, this is a serious accusation.”

“I know my lord. But he’s been acting quite suspiciously, and on more than one occasion he has been reported leaving the gates without leaving word. I only just spoke with his servant, and he says his master has not been seen since the night before, and as of yet cannot be located.”

Furious, Arthur thumped his fist onto the table. “I want him found and questioned. If what you say is true, he’s committed treason against his king.”

Percival nodded and dismissed himself from the room, taking with him a few men to search for his uncle. Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“My Lord, shall we establish a perimeter?” Sir Leon suggested.

“Yes, go. And find Guinevere, tell her I need to see her when she’s done.”

Leon nodded and left the room, the rest of the knights going with him. Merlin stepped forward, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “He will pay for this Arthur. We’ll make sure of it.”

“I just don’t understand. Why would he do this? He’s my uncle, who or what could have possibly convinced him to turn against me?”

“Perhaps it’s magic?”

“I don’t know Merlin. What am I supposed to think? Has everything, every encouraging word, ever opinion been a lie? How am I supposed to handle yet another betrayal?” he dropped his head into his hands, raking his fingers through his hair.

Merlin looked away. What could he say? He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to know your own family member had turned against you.

“Everything will be alright Arthur.” He murmured. He hoped it was true.

“How can you know that?”

“I don’t. I have faith.”

“In what exactly?” he spat.

“In you.”

Arthur looked up. “How can you possibly believe in me?”

“I have watched you go from a young, spoiled, prat of a prince, to someone who believes in the difference between right and wrong. You stand up for what is right. You saw that what your father was doing was wrong, and you’ve changed things for the better.” He sat down beside him. “I believe in you Arthur, because you are a good man, and a great King.”

Arthur smiled, somewhat taken aback. “What would I do without you Merlin?”

“Crash and burn probably.” He quipped.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Thank you for that wonderful rally of confidence Merlin.” He stood. “I’m going to find Albius, perhaps some of his sorcerers are seasoned enough to help in whatever fight is to come.” He made to walk away, but turned. “Merlin, have you given any thought to Morgana?”

Merlin frowned. “In what way?”

“Do you think we should get her? Bring her here, for her safety?”

“Ealdor is not a part of Camelot, perhaps she’ll be safer there.”

Arthur nodded, seeming distracted. “Of course. Right. Well, why don’t you help Gaius prepare for any wounded. I’ll find you later.”

Merlin tipped his head, watching as Arthur made his way to the square. He could only hope this battle would be short and cause little bloodshed. He tried to mentally list anything he should gather for medicinal purposes but found himself distracted by Arthur’s question regarding Morgana.

Was she safe in Ealdor? It may not be a part of Camelot, but it was certainly possible that it was in the path of destruction. He knew Morgana was strong, she had beaten Arthur more than once when it came to sword fighting and had more than proven her prowess as a sorceress, but he could not help the feeling of dread that settled over him. He only hoped she would be safe, and keep his mother from harm.

\--

The first man she saw rode on horseback, blood spattered across his face. He swung a mace through the air, and howled in excitement when he saw her. Morgana gritted her teeth, dodging the blow as he rode past. She turned as he wheeled his horse back in her direction and threw her hand forward, her eyes glinting gold. He soared from his saddle, landing heavily in the dirt, the wind knocked from his chest.

She strode forward, and lay the tip of her sword at his throat. “Why are you here?”

He smirked, wheezing as he gathered his breath. “For you of course.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she narrowed her eyes, thrusting the sword through his heart. He gasped, blood dribbling from the corner of his bearded mouth. She frowned and turned away, making for the village center.

Already the bodies of men, women, and children alike littered the ground. Dismayed she stared, recognizing the young girl with twin braids who’d crafted a flower crown for her, the older gentleman who’d slipped her an apple from his stall, the kind innocent people who had done nothing to earn such a tragic and needlessly violent ending.

She held back her sorrow; she would grieve when vengeance had been wrought. At the center of the chaos she stood, watching as the people who still lived were dragged from their homes and thrown to the ground.

The mercenaries and soldiers laughed as they stepped over the bodies of those they’d killed. Morgana raised her hands, the sword falling to the ground at her feet. The men looked towards her. The blue of her eyes was overtaken by gold, and the gentle breeze that ruffled her hair swelled.

The very air moved to her whim, mist and smoke gathering and wrapping itself around the suddenly prone bodies of the soldiers and mercenaries alike. She let herself smile with grim satisfaction as their very breath was torn from their lungs, their eyes rolling back in their heads as they dropped to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.

Only one remained, his weapons dropped at his boots, his hand wrapped around his neck. He gasped, staring with bewilderment at his fallen comrades.

Morgana walked slowly to the man she had spared, a gradual smirk turning up the corners of her lips. “Do you see the fate that has befallen your fellow men?” she murmured. He nodded frantically. “Good. Now you will tell me why you have come for me, and who sent you. Lest you rather suffer the same fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i made this one a bit longer than usual, i was going to leave off at leon and the knights discovery but i felt like a owed a longer chapter. hope this makes someone happy, im actually pretty proud of morganas part at the end. i love vengeful morgana :)


	17. fall with me

_**Third Person’s Point of View** _

She remembered to release the binding on Hunith’s home as she knelt beside her third patient. While she’d by no means succeeded under Gauis’ brief medical tutelage, she knew more than most. And with her minimal skills she did what she could for the injured scattered among Ealdor.

An elderly woman held out more bandages as she packed them onto a boy’s leg wound, his teeth gritted in pain. The sword had gone deep, but he’d be alright. Her magic probed his blood and found no damage to nerve or muscle, only flesh.

“Morgana.” She looked up as a flushed Hunith appeared, her eyes alight with horror at the carnage that surrounded them.

“Hunith. Could you make more of that paste? The salve you used on my burns? It should do well with some of the baser injuries.” Her guardian nodded, briskly making her way back to the cottage. Morgana watched her go for a moment, allowing selfish thought to take root. What would she think of her when she knew she was responsible for this destruction?

The boy at her side moaned and she turned back, applying more pressure as she tied the cloth around his makeshift bandage.

\--

After all had been tended to, Morgana made her way to the well in the village center. The front of her dress was stained with blood, her hands drenched. She suspected there was a bit on her face too, from when she’d rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Morgana.” Hunith stepped towards her, grim faced. Her dress hadn’t fared much better.

“They came for me.” She murmured, though she had a feeling Hunith already knew.

“But why?” she touched her arm, but Morgana shrugged away. She didn’t deserve comfort, this was her fault.

“The last soldier confessed he’s a part of a larger army, though he wouldn’t say who leads them. It seems they’re more terrifying than even I.”

Hunith gripped her shoulder, tilting her chin up. “You did what you had to do to defend this village, to defend me. No one blames you for that.”

She looked away. “There wouldn’t have been anything to defend against if I hadn’t been here.”

“There are too many what ifs to consider, and there’s no point to dwelling on it. All we can do now is move forward, and do our best to protect the ones we love.”

Morgana nodded. She looked around at the village, at this quiet place she’d begun to think of as a haven. It had been her shelter for only a few fleeting weeks, but she’d felt safer here than anywhere else in her life, excluding her birthplace.

“We should bury the dead, and make for Camelot.”

“So soon?”

“It’s the safest place there is. When these men don’t return, they’ll know I’m here. Most like they’ll come for me again, in greater numbers. It’s a foolish risk to stay.” She glanced up, at those still left alive. They huddled over the injured and wept over their lost friends and family. It was cruel to make them leave so sudden and without time to grieve or honor their dead, but this was war now. If they stayed they would perish.

She couldn’t stomach the thought than any more innocent people would die for her.

\--

“My Lord, they’ve not yet made an approach. Their camp is stationary.” Leon reported.

Arthur frowned, glaring down at the map upon the round table. The army was close, too close for comfort, yet they hadn’t made a single move to surround them. It was as if they were waiting, or biding their time. But for what?

“What are they waiting for?” he pondered to himself.

“A weapon?” Merlin guessed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “And what would that be?”

“How should I know, you’re the brains aren’t you?” he smirked. Arthur appreciated his friends attempt to bring levity to the situation, but it was for naught. His kingdom was in danger, his people were threatened. And there were more innocents in Camelot than ever, with the druids added to the population.

But his thoughts retuned to Merlin’s suggestion; a weapon. Perhaps there was some credibility to the notion. Why else would they wait so long? Perhaps for a leader?

“Have the missives been sent yet?” he asked. Merlin nodded affirmatively.

He’d sent letters to all corners of the five Kingdoms, hoping – though begging was a more appropriate term – for assistance. This was what their peace treaty was meant for, but it was so new and delicate. He could only hope his sudden declaration for magic would not cause them to ignore his pleas.

The door creaked open and Guinevere made her way into the throne room, smiling softly. “Any news?” she asked, coming to his side and placing her hands on his shoulders.

Her very touch soothed him, her fingers kneading gently into the knotted muscle the tension had created. “None.” Merlin answered.

He felt her nod behind him, her touch trailing across his neck as she took the seat beside him. “It’s been days. The people are restless, the knights even more so. I only wish there was more I could do to help.” She laid her head on her hand, feeling exhausted. Arthur tucked his arm around her waist, tenderly brushing a curl from her eyes.

Their moment was interrupted as a Knight strode purposefully into the room, his gaze seeking out that of his King. “My Lord.” He bowed at the waist.

“Yes.”

“There is a group of fifty-odd people at the gates. They beg entrance, and one of them has asked to speak with your personal servant; she claims to be his mother.”

Merlin started, instantly alert. His mother? Here in Camelot? And what of Morgana?

He lurched for the door, his feet pounding through the halls. He made his way down the citadel steps, chest tight. Something was wrong, something had to be terribly wrong for either of them to leave Ealdor. His thoughts swam with visions of Morgana, dead in the grass, her blood pooled around her.

He thought of the words he’d written to her, and how not-enough they’d been. They would never be enough. A few measly letters detailing his affection for her and no more? He felt a fool for not saying more when he had the chance, though he had to remind himself he did not know the truth of what had happened. There was still hope.

He took a horse from the groomsmen in the courtyard and made for Camelot’s gates, the wind at his heels and nary a concern for the people who leapt out of his way.

His heart was leaping by the time he reached the wrought iron arches. Through the gates he could see the group of travel worn villagers, shouting pleadingly at the knights in front of them. As he dropped from his horse and foisted his reigns upon another, he saw his mother.

She stood at the front of the crowd, silent, her gaze roaming searchingly over anyone who approached. “Mother!”

Her eyes snapped to his, a smile stretching across her lips. “Merlin!” she called.

The clatter of hooves striking stone cut through the noise as he pushed past the knights, and he turned to see Arthur and Guinevere appearing behind him. He looked back towards his mother as the King commanded the villagers be allowed inside, reaching out for her.

She threw herself into his arms, squeezing his waist with considerable strength. Her hand reached up to cradle his head. “Oh my son.” She breathed.

He pulled back, “What happened?” he tried to convey his desire to know of Morgana’s whereabouts through his gaze, knowing that speaking her name with so many prying ears nearby would be foolish.

Arthur and Guinevere stepped up beside him as she prepared to speak, her cheeks flushing at the attention she was thrust under.

“We were attacked. They struck down many, and we have injured among us. I was lucky enough to have hidden from their sight, and they did not find me. By the time they left, we were given the impression they would return.” She glanced at Merlin with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “The people of Ealdor seek asylum in your Kingdom, Your Majesty.” She attempted a curtsy, though it was obvious she was exhausted from the journey.

Arthur bowed to her, leaving the older woman plainly shocked. “I commend you for your bravery, Hunith. You will have shelter, and whatever else you need within my walls.”

From behind him Guinevere smiled proudly, then offered a hand to his mother.

“If you’d come with me.” Hunith nodded, gladly accepting the help.

“Hunith, if you would, I do have one question.” Arthur said.

She turned, “Yes Your Majesty?”

“What did they say that left you believing they would return?”

She looked to Merlin, and her gaze said what she could not. This had to do with Morgana. “Perhaps we should talk of this in private. War is not meant for delicate ears.” She smiled at the curious children and folk watching from their doorsteps.

Arthur nodded, leading them all to the citadel from atop his horse.

\--

Morgana held her cloak tight around her, fingers trembling. It mattered not the years of good memories she’d made in Camelot; it only took the single horrific event of her execution to set the worst of terror into her bones again.

She hated the fear this place instilled in her, hated that it made her flinch from every person who stepped past her. She held the most immense power at the tips of her fingers, and yet she’d never felt so weak.

Hunith slipped in beside her, jostling through the crowd as Guinevere led them to the Citadel. She reached down and held her hand, smiling softly in what was most likely meant to be encouragement. But Morgana could take no comfort.

Though her hair had been lightened and her eyes darkened –both through magic– she felt as though she radiated with guilt, and that any moment someone would realize who she was. She strode with baited breath, anticipating pointed fingers and angry shouts.

Hunith squeezed her hand, anchoring her back to the present as Guinevere stopped in front of them. She was stunned to realize they were the last left in the hall from their traveling party. “Hunith, if you’d follow me to speak with the King?”

Morgana allowed herself a moment to look over the woman she’d once known as her maid. Her hair had grown longer, and she wore a velvet gown of deep blue that skimmed the stone floor. She looked the very image of a Lady. Pride welled in her chest.

“Of course.” Hunith murmured. “My ward will be joining us, if she may.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed, but she nodded. “Of course.”

She led them through the hall to the throne room, though Morgana could have found her way with her eyes closed. It seemed she would not have recognized the room itself, she thought, as she found it very changed.

The dais upon which the throne had sat, and Arthurs and hers with it, was now burdened with tables bearing fruit, bread, and cheeses. In the center of the room, where men and women of the court would once stand to perceive the happenings of court, rested a grand round table.

In the seat at the far end was the King, and beside him Merlin. At the sight of Hunith, Arthur stood, his knights following.

“I suppose that is all there is for now, continue to your duties.” At his words the armed men dispersed, leaving only the five of them in the cavernous room.

Morgana took a breath, allowing the visage of the young blonde woman to fade from her. She lowered her hood, looking nervously upon the people before her.

Arthur startled, coming round the table in a quick flurry of movement. “Morgana,” he breathed. He embraced her tightly, arms around her shoulders. He held tight to her, his head bent into the curve of her neck. She felt every part of her relax, limbs tight around his.

She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed this comfort. Arthur’s warmth surrounded her. For a moment, she could pretend they were young again; he’d found her crying after a nightmare –somehow he’d always known when she’d had one– and crawled into bed with her, hugging her tightly until she’d fallen back to sleep.

Morgana pulled back, keeping him close. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright. When I saw Hunith, and the rest of them, but not you, I feared the worst.”

“Well no need, as you can see I’m perfectly well.”

He smiled, though she could see the exhausted circles that rimmed his eyes. Guinevere came to her side, pulling her into an embrace of her own. She murmured her own words of happiness before standing back, gesturing for her to take a seat at the table.

Merlin took the one beside her, and beneath it he reached for her hand, squeezing tightly to convey his relief. She held tightly to him, uncomfortably unfamiliar with the feeling of overwhelming safety he seemed to rouse in her.

“Morgana, what happened?”

She frowned. “It was a small group, though you wouldn’t know it by the damage they caused. They came for me. They wouldn’t say who.”

Arthur straightened. “Who would want you?”

She shrugged. “Any number of those I’ve caused harm I suppose.”

“Don’t act the martyr ‘Gana, it doesn’t suit you. Is there anyone you could’ve personally harmed who holds the power to raise an army? Because I can’t honestly think of anyone.”

“I can.” She murmured, shooting him a sardonic smirk.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, present company aside, I don’t see any viable reason whoever’s leading this attack on Camelot could possibly want with you.”

“A weapon.” Merlin uttered.

Her head swiveled. “What?”

“Arthur, we thought they were waiting for a leader, or a weapon. What if Morgana was their intended weapon? What if they hoped she would join them? Rally to their cause, whatever it might be.”

Arthur shook his head. “That’s a risk, attacking the village she’s staying in on the chance she might join them?”

“I don’t think they were asking.” Morgana said. “They seemed much more intent on capture, and they weren’t too keen on taking me unharmed.”

Merlin scratched his chin. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No. It doesn’t. But we don’t have time to continue pondering what their motives for taking Morgana might’ve been, and we need our rest if this is truly going to be war.” Guinevere spoke up, standing from her seat. The rest of them followed suit. “Hunith, allow me to bring you to one of our guest rooms.”

Hunith nodded gratefully. “I’ll walk you to your old chambers.” Merlin murmured, somewhat questioningly to Morgana.

She nodded. Though this place left the bitter taste of resentment on her tongue, her rooms felt somehow untouched. Plenty bad had taken place in those walls, and yet she still felt safe. Perhaps due to the memories of her time with Gwen, when they were both young; or of she and Arthur, playing hide and seek as children. She’d always chosen the wardrobe, and he’d always pretended not to know.

“Morgana?”

“Yes. Just a moment.” She felt her eyes burn as she whispered softly beneath her breath, her long dark hair lightening to a summer’s glow, her irises darkening in the same manner.

When she looked up, Merlin was gazing at her with something like wonderment. “What?”

“Nothing. I just never realized how much I prefer you the way you are.”

She blushed, though she blamed it on the rosy cheeks of her disguise. She bid goodnight to her brother and the others, then took Merlin’s arm.

She left the hood of her cloak down, doing her best to stride confidently beside him. His fingers squeezed her arm tight, and he looked down on her softly. She smiled back at him. She felt safe walking with him, but she hated that it took his presence to make her feel so.

Once she had been strong and needed no one to instill security in herself, but then she thought maybe none of that was real, and it may have all been just a part of Morgause’s façade.

Merlin tugged on her elbow as she drifted into her thoughts, bringing her back to the moment as they approached her room. She looked down, embarrassed at having been caught wandering in her own head, yet again.

He looked around the empty hall and slid his hand down to grasp her own, her body flushing in response. She’d missed this, the feeling of his hand on hers, the warmth of his person. Her skin shivered at the contact, and she knew he felt it. His grip tightened.

The time they’d had together, while their feelings had been realized, was short and somewhat fleeting. But it was stronger than anything she’d ever felt before in her life. She was frightened of it, but she desired to wholeheartedly embrace it.

His gaze darkened as they crossed her threshold, the heavy door swinging shut behind them. So quickly a startled gasp left her lips, he had her pressed against the door. His hands framed her face, his lips finding hers in a brusque breath-stealing kiss.

She responded in kind, her fingers climbing up his back to grasp his neck. He pressed into her bruisingly, his knee between her legs. She moaned, and he smiled into her mouth.

“Have you missed me?”

She laughed hoarsely as he kissed down her neck, lingering on a faded bruise. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.” He nipped at her jaw and her eyes fluttered.

“If I had to say,” his hand squeezed her waist. “I suppose I did. Miss you. Only a little.”

She felt absolutely boneless as he ran a hand down her waist, the other up towards her breast. She gripped the hair at his neck, fingers curled through it as she pulled him back to her for another kiss. She felt every touch ignite her blood, sending an icy-hot sensation through every limb.

It was like something in him called to her; she could feel her magic straining at the edge of her flesh, as though it desired to burst from within her. She pushed herself further into him –though it didn’t feel possible– lifting a leg to pull him in closer, her heel pressing into the back of his thigh.

He hissed, biting down on her lower lip. She roamed her hand down his chest, fingers pulling at the ties of his tunic. Her leg dropped as he pulled back, purposefully dragging the shirt up and over his head.

Somehow this had become so much more than she’d anticipated, and to her bewilderment she wasn’t frightened or anxious. She wanted this. Wanted him.

She turned, gathering her hair to one side. His fingers raised goosebumps along her skin as he ran them down her neck, then unlaced the ties at the back of her plain frock. It pooled at her feet and with it she left her plain leather boots, until she stood before him in a short white undergown.

She’d thought in this moment she’d feel embarassed, or trepidation, but all she felt was need. She needed him, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. She stepped forward, hands on his chest, until he stepped backwards. He walked until his knees hit the bed, and he fell to lie on his back.

She crawled on top of him until she straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him, her hair on either side of his face like a curtain. For a moment they slowed, became gentle, as his hands framed her face, and his lips touched hers so softly. She could feel his love for her like a fact, in every motion between them.

His touch drifted until his hands were at her waist, bracing her as he rolled them so he lay atop her. His weight was heavy, but pleasant, and he stopped to look down at her. He ran a finger down her cheek. “I love you.”

She nodded, and in this moment she found she did as well. She leaned up and kissed him, her legs coming to wind around his waist. He dropped into her, their actions becoming more frenzied. Their lips came together in a bruising kiss, and for a moment she could’ve sworn his eyes were liquid gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so wow this took a long ass time, but i picked up again yesterday and banged this out overnight. i really wanted to get 3k words and im pretty proud i did, might not seem like much but it is to me. anyways i hope you guys like this one i worked pretty hard on it, and please let me know if my attempt at my romance was totally botched 'cause i don't really know how it came out. comments are appreciated, hope this update is pleasing ♥


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